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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 


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SY (DUJEl C0M:IC EIDIOTOie 

AND A 


GALAXY OF FUNNY WRITERS. 


M. J. IVERS & CO.. 86 NASSAU STREET. NEW YOR?;. 





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V 


FUN LET LOOSE 

BY A 

GALAXY OF FUNNY WRITERS, 


SUCH AS 


AETEMUS WAKD, JOSH BILLINGS, MAX ADELEK, 
GAEL PEETZEL, BEET HAETE, 
DOESTIOKS, ETC. 





NEW YORK; 

3;^. J. Z^EE;S cSc OO., 

AGENM, 

No. 86 NASSAU STEEET. 

1 i^/ ??o.}' ■ 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1880, 
Bt M. J. IVERS & CO., 

In the OflBce of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 


I 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


REGINALD GLOVERS,ON 

BY AKTEMUS WARD. 

The morning on which Keginald Gloverson was to leave Great 
Salt Lake City with a mule train, dawned beautifully. 

Eeginald Gloverson was a young and thrifty Mormon, with an 
interesting family of twenty young and handsome wives. His 
unions had never been blessed with children. As often as once 
a year he used to go to Omaha, in Nebraska, with a mule-train 
for goods ; but although he had performed the rather perilous 
journey many times with entire safety, his heart was strangely 
sad on this particular morning, and mled with gloomy forebod- 
ings. 

The time for his departure had arrived. The high-spirited 
mules were at the door, impatiently champing their bits. The 
Mormon stood sadly among his weeping wives. 

“ Dearest ones,” he said, “ I am singularly sad at heart this 
morning ; but do not let this depress you. The journey is a 
perilous one, but — pshaw ! I have always come back safely here- 
tofore, and why should I fear ? Besides, I know that every 
night, as I lay down on the broad starlit prairie, your bright 
faces will come to me in my dreams, and make my slumbers 
sweet and gentle. You, Emily, with your mild blue eyes ; and 
you, Henrietta, with your splendid black hair ; and you Nelly, 
with your hair so brightly, beautifully golden ; and you, Mollie, 
with your cheeks so downy ; and you, Betsy, with your wine- 
red lips, far more delicious, though, than any wine I ever tasted ; 
and you, Maria, with your winsome voice ; and you, Susan 
with your — with your — that is to say, Susan, with your — and the 
other thirteen of you, each so good and beautiful, will come to 
me in sweet dreams, will you not, dearestists ?” 

“ Our own,” they lovingly chimed, ‘‘ we will !” 

And so farewell !” cried Reginald. “ Come to my arms. 


4 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


my own !’^ he said, “ that is, as many of you as can do it con- 
veniently at once, for I must away.’’ 

He folded several of them to his throbbing breast, and drove 
sadly away. 

But he had not gone far when the trace of the off-hind mule 
became unhitched. Dismounting, he essayed to adjust the trace ; 
but ere he had fairly commenced the task, the mule, a singularly 
refractory animal, snorted wildly, and kicked Reginald fright- 
fully in the stomach. He arose with difficulty, and tottered 
feebly toward his mother’s house, which was nearby, falling dead 
in her yard, with the remark, “ Dear mother, I’ve come home to 
die I” 

So I see,” she said ; “ where’s the mules?” 

Alas ! Reginald Gloverson could give no answer. In vain the 
heart-stricken mother threw herself upon his inanimate form, 
crying, “ Oh, my son — my son ! only iell me where the mules 
are, and then you may die if you want to.” 

In vain — in vain ! Reginald had passed on. 

The mules were never found. 

Reginald’s heart-broken mother took the body home to her 
unfortunate son’s widows. But before her arrival she indis- 
creetly sent a boy to Bust the news gently to the afflicted wives, 
which he did by informing them, in a hoarse whisper, that their 
“ old man had gone in.” 

The wives felt very baldy indeed. 

‘‘ He was devoted to me,” sobbed Emily. 

“ And to me,” said Maria. 

“ Yes,” said Emily, “ he thought considerably of you, but not 
so much as he did of me.” 

“ I say he did !” 

“ And I say he didn’t !” 

“ He did I” 

‘‘ He didn’t !” 

“ Don’t look at me, with your squint eyes !” 

“ Don’t shake your red head at me 

“ Sisters !” said the black-haired Henrieiia, ‘‘ cease this un- 
seemly wrangling. I, as his first wife, shall strew flowers on his 
grave.” 

“ No you said Susan. “I, as his last wife, shall strew 

flowers on his grave. It’s my business to strew !” 

“ You shan’t, so there !” said Henrietta. 

“ You bet I will !” said Susan, with a tear-suffused face. 

“ Well, as for me,” said the practical Betsy, “ I ain’t on the 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


5 


Strew, mucli, but I shall ride at the head of the funeral proces- 
sion 

“ Not if I’ve been introduced to myself, you won’t,” said the 
golden-haired Nelly ; ‘‘ that’s my position., You bet your bon- 
net-strings it is.” 

“ Children,” said Reginald’s mother, ‘‘ you must do some 
crying, you know, on the day of the funeral ; and how many 
pocket-handkerchers will it take tO go round ? Betsy, you and 
Nelly ought to make one do between you. ’ ’ 

‘‘i’ll tear her eyes out if she perpetuates a sob on my hand- 
kercher !” said Nelly. 

“ Dear daughters-in-law,” said Reginald’s mother, “ how un- 
seemly is this anger. Mules is five hundred dollars a span, and 
every identical mule my poor boy had has been gobbled up by 
the red man. I knew when my Reginald staggered into the 
door-yard that he was on the die, but if I’d only thunk to ask him 
about them mules ere his gentle spirit took fiight, it would have 
been four thousand dollars in our pockets, and no mistake ! 
Excuse those real tears, but you’ve never felt a parent’s feelins.” 

“ It’s an oversight,” sobbed Maria. “ Don’t blame us !” 

The funeral passed off in a very pleasant manner, nothing oc- 
curring to mar the harmony of the occasion. By a happy thought 
of Reginald’s mother the wives walked to the grave twenty 
abreast, which rendered that part of the ceremony thoroughly 
impartial. 

That night the twenty wives with heavy hearts sought their 
twenty respective couches. But no Reginald occupied those 
twenty respective couches — Reginald would never more linger 
all night in blissful repose in those twenty respective couches — 
Reginald’s head would nevermore press the twenty respective 
pillows of those twenty respective couches — never, nevermore ! 


When Thackeray paid his first visit to America it was known 
of him that he was very fond of oysters, and at a dinner given 
in his honor, the largest oyster that the place provided — quite 
an abnormal oyster in point of size — was placed before him. He 
said himself that he turned pale when he saw it, such a monster 
was it, but that he ate it in silence. His host asked him how he 
felt afterward. “ Profoundly thankful !” said Thackeray con- 
tentedly ; “ I feel as if I had swallowed a baby,” 


6 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


ONLY A BABY. 

TO A LITTLE ONE JUST A WEEK OLD. 


Only a baby, 

’Thout any hair, 

’Cept just a little 
Fuz here and there. 

Only a baby. 

Name you have none. 

BABT^ 

Only a baby ! 

What should I be ? 

Lots o' big folks 
Been little like me. 

Ain’t dot any hair ? 

Ees, I have, too. 

S’pos’n I hadn’t, 

Dess it would drow. 

Not any teeth— 

Wouldn’t have one ; 

Don’t dit my dinner 
Gnawin’ a bone. 

What am I here for ? 

’At’ 8 pretty mean ; 

Who’s dot a better right, 
’Tever you’ ve seen ? 


Barefooted and dimpled, 
Sweet little' one. 

Only a baby, 

Teeth none at all ; 

What are you good for 
Only to squall ? 

KEPLY. 

What am I dood for, 

Did you say ? 

Eber so many sir 

. Ebery day. 

’Tourse I squall at times. 
Sometimes I bawl ; 

Zey dassn’t spant me, 
Taus I’m so small. 

Only a baby 1 
Ees, sir, 'at’s so ; 

’N if you only tood, 

You’d be one, too. 

’At’s all I’ve to say ; 
You’re mos’ too old ; 

Dess I’ll det into bed. 
Toes dittin’ cold. 


Hebe, the Greek goddess of youth, daughter of no less distin- 
guished personages than Jupiter and Juno, was a model for 
many young ladies of the present day in one particular — she 
wasn’t afraid to work. Of course there wasn’t much housework 
to do, but she personally attended to her mother’s chariot, saw 
that the thoroughbraces were all right, the whip-socket in 
order, and the axles greased, and with her own fair hands she 
harnessed the peacocks, and we presume rubbed them down and 
bedded them after a hard day’s drive. There are few daugh- 
ters born to such regal state who would consent to anything like 
that. Hercules afterward released her from her menial service 
— on a writ of Hebeous corpus, perhaps — and married her. 
But she doubtless wanted a strong man. 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


7 


MAJV, 

AN ESSAY UPON THE GENUS HOMO, BUT NOT BY POPE. 

Man was made in dry weather. 

He was made of dust. 

Quite a number have never recovered from their creation^ 
they are still dry. 

It is a man’s nature to be discontented. 

Adam had a monopoly, but he could not be happy without 
some one to crow over. 

For a while he knocked around over the Garden of Eden, and 
then went to the house ; but he had to cook his own supper ; 
there was no stove-wood chopped, and things were in a bad 
shape generally. 

The next morning it was the same way. He had to make his 
own bed and sweep out. His socks were dirty, and his arm 
would run through a hole in his sleeve. So he was dissatisfied. 

The next night when he went to sleep the Creator punished 
him by making one of his ribs into a woman — a great misfor- 
tune to the race. 

It has been six thousand years since that rib was lost, and yet- 
man continues feeling for it. 

This is a very feeling subject. 

Pursuit in this case is said to be sweeter than possession. 

After Eve got acquainted with her mate, she vowed that all 
the men in the world were not worth Adam. 

Goliath was a man. 

He was a bigger man than old Grant, but he could not stand 
so many slings. 

A fop is a male who is ashamed of his sex, and attempts to 
conceal the fact that he is a man. 

Concealment in such cases is attended with but little trouble. 
It is only necessary to part his hair in the middle. 

« The family man resembles an oyster on the half-shell. 

■ The shell is known at home, the soft side abroad. 

Some men carry this resemblance in their faces. A great 
many men have countenances like oysters. 

Job is said to have been a very patient man. He had boils all 
over him. 

Many a man now boils all over himself when the preacher 
reaches thirteenthly on a hot summer day, and never thinks of 
the grandeur of Job’s example. 

It is natural for a man to disregard good example. 


s 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


KNOWLEDGE A PAINFUL BURDEN 

EXPEKIENOE OE ^^THE BURLINGTON HAWKEYE^’ PHILOSOPHER. 

It is my birthday. I am just as old as I was this time last 
year. And next year it will be the same old thing again. And 
it will probably keep on that way until the next war breaks out, 
when I will doubtless be able to jump to forty-six with a celer- 
ity that will make your head swim. 

As we grow older, how much there is in this world that we do 
not find out. 

But that doesn’t trouble us half so much as the things we do 
find out. 

There is a placid contentment in not knowing much. That is 
why I am so quietly happy. 

Only a few weeks ago I met a young man on the Sound 
steamer. He had been out of school nearly a week. He was a 
bright, handsome young fellow, and was the brightest being on 
the boat. He bubbled over with broad cuffs and information, 
and his estimation of himself and his collar were of the same 
height. He told how the Seawanhaka disaster occurred and how 
it could have been prevented. He never expressed an opinion ; 
he laid down incontrovertible facts. If another passenger said, 
“ There is alight-house,” this young man “ begged his pardon ; 
it was a shot-tower.” If a traveller told his wife these light- 
houses were kept by the United States Government, the young 
man was sorry to correct him, but they were maintained 
by the State of Hew York. When some one else kindly pointed 
out the prison buildings on Blackwell’s Island, the young man 
disliked to contradict him, but those were the barracks and Gov- 
ernment buildings on Governor’s Island. Somebody said we 
were running very fast, but the young man, scarcely repressing 
a pitying smile, said we were running twenty-eight minutes 
behind regular time. Presently he started, looked over the 
water, with an expression of intense concern, shut up his field- 
glass and snapped it in its case, and explaining that we were 
headed too close to a certain reef which he named, hurried up 
stairs to speak to the pilot about it. 

I don’t know how he and the pilot got along, but when he 
came back the young man was quiet, and wore a subdued air, 
and smoked his mild little cigarette as meekly as though there 
had been some tobacco in it. It was painfully evident that he 
had learned something, and I felt grieved and hurt on his ac- 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


9 


count 5 I came very near feeling angry at the pilot who had im- 
parted the information. 

Because the newly acquired knowledge had not made the 
young man happier. Indeed, it had rather destroyed his happi- 
ness. It had made him miserable. Previous to taking his lit- 
tle special course in the pilot-house, he had honestly believed 
that he knew more about the Sound than the pilot. He knew 
that he knew far more than any or all of the passengers. And 
nobody contradicted him. It was sadly apparent that he didn’t 
know anything, but he didn’t know that. And if he had stayed 
below with the rest of us, he never would have known it. But 
he must needs endeavor to tell the pilot about a reef that was 
not, never had been, and will never be. Poor boy, I felt sorry 
for him. He was born somewhere above Thirty-second Street, 
had never been away from Manhattan Island before, and 
now he had graduated, and was running down to Hew Bedford 
to see the world. And before he was out of sight of Hew York, 
the blinding, dazzling fact was flashed upon him that the world 
is nearly eighty-nine miles wide, and there are upward of two 
hundred thousand people in it, and it is almost one hundred and 
six years old. 

And let me tell you that is a pretty big world for a young 
man, or an old man. Don’t laugh at it, son. You go out into 
a world as big and as old as that, and know more and do more 
and see more and think more than all the other people in it, 
and you won’t care to be President of the United States. 

It is a difficult thing to secure and maintain the leadership in 
a world of that size. Why, there is a little village in Peoria 
County that I know of, and the census enumerators could only 
give it a population of ninety-seven, do their best, and there 
was a lawyer and a physician and a minister of the Gospel, and 
a poet in that little village, to dispute for pre-eminence and mas- 
tery. Of course, they didn’t count any of the other ninety-three 
villagers in the contest at all. But mark you, my son, the little 
shoemaker at the corner, by the pump, one time beat the lawyer 
all out of sight, each man pleading his own case, in the squire’s 
court, and then got away with him worse than ever when the 
mortified attorney took an appeal ; the barber actually cornered | 
the minister and silenced him, and made him give in on some 
questions of exact quotation and reference ; a quiet farmer used 
to sit down in the long winter evenings, write the only poems 
the county papers would publish from that village, and the old 
woman used to gather herbs and dig roots, and concoct teas, and 


10 


FUN LET LOOSE, 


occasionally cure the cases the doctor gave up. It wasn’t very 
much of a universe, that prairie town, but it seemed too big for 
one man to absorb. 

I suppose the acquisition of the knowledge that the little 
shoemaker and the barber and the farmer and the old woman 
knew some things while the rest of them knew so much, was pain- 
ful to the professional gentlemen. The acquisition of knowledge 
is always painful. I have wept more over my multiplication 
table than ever I did over my sins. Not that my sins do not 
outnumber the multiplication table, because they do — oh ! indeed, 
yes they do. But in the mathematical matters my weeping was 
often stimulated. And often and again since that earlier time 
have I been made sad by extending my information. 


sojsra OF the humbugged husband. 

She’s not what fancy painted her — 

I’m sadly taken in ; 

If some one else had won her, I 
Should not have cared a pin. 

I thought that she was mild and good 
As maiden e’er could be ; 

I wonder how she ever could 
Have so much humbugged me. 

They cluster round and shake my hand, 

They tell me I am blest ; 

My case they do not understand — 

I think that I know best. 

They say she’s fairest of the fair ; 

They dri^e me mad and madder. 

What do they mean by it ? I swear, 

I only wish they had her. 

’Tis true that she has lovely locks. 

That on her shoulders fall ; 

- What would they say to see the box 
In which she keeps them all ? 

Her taper fibers, it is true, 

’Twere difficult to match ; 

What would they say if they but knew 
How terribly they scratch ? 


Punch. 


FUN LET I.OOSE. 


11 


FOOLING A CHINAMAN, 

AND REALIZING THAT THE CHINAMAN HAD FOOLED HIM. 

A PLUMP little Celestial, his almond eyes twinkling with de- 
light and an extraordinary grin lighting up his yellow counte- 
nance, dropped in to witness the lottery drawing the other day. 

He watched the blindfolded boys draw the numbers from the 
wheel with apparent interest, and bore the jokes of the crowd 
around with evident good-nature. 

“ Say, John, you washee that man’s shirtee?” asked one of 
the crowd, pointing to one of the benevolent looking commis- 
sioners. 

“ I washee heapee plenty shirtee, if I winee plize,” replied the 
bland Mongolian. 

‘‘Have you got a ticket, John?” inquired the man in the 
crowd. 

“ Well, me tlinkeeme habee,” replied the Chinaman, drawing 
one from his pocket. “ Tlickee win ?” he inquired. 

The man in the crowd looked at the number, and scanning 
his list, found that it had come in for a 1500 prize. 

“ Well, John,” replied the man in the crowd, very inno- 
cently, “ I think you’ve lost.” 

“ Chinee man losee allee time,” said the subject of the Flow- 
ery Empire ; “ gotee no luckee, gless tlow tlickee away.” 

“ You needn’t do that, John,” said the man, with a patroniz- 
ing air. “ I’ll give you a dime for it.” 

“ Dlime too lillee. Glimme a dollar,” said the Celestial. 

“ A dollar’s too much for a ticket that can’t win. We’ll split 
the difference and call it half a dollar, eh?” said John’s kind 
informant. 

“ Chinee man glottee no luckee ; Melican man takee allee 
mlonee. Takee the tlickee and glimme flo’ bittee and John 
passed over his ticket in exchange foMhe money. 

AVhen the Mongolian’s grinning features had disappeared the 
man chuckled and remarked that he had “ got her this time.” 

“ Let’s see the ticket,” said one of his friends. 

The man who had made the lucky investment handed the 
ticket over, when his friend exclaimed, 

“ Why, George, it was drawn just last June !” 

“ Is that so?” asked the man, dumbfounded, the revelation 
that he had been duped dawning upon him. “ Where is that 
lying rascal of a heathen Chinee who put up this job on me ?” 
— W. 0. Picayune. 


12 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


HAMLET WITH A HA VY PISTOL, 

V CRAZY ARKANSAN MAKES A DRUMMER FOLLOW TRAGEDY 
WITH COMEDY. 

George Ninaman, a St. Louis drummer who arrived at Little 
Eock, stopped one night at a small cross-roads hotel in Grant 
County, southern Arkansas. The house contained four rooms 
and a Kitchen. After supper Ninaman was told he must spend 
part of the night alone, as the family would attend a protracted 
meeting in the neighborhood. The host with his wife and 
daughter left the house, and Ninaman sat in one of the rooms 
alone. His loneliness was added to by an owl in the yard which 
booted dismally, and an old red clock on the shelf which ticked 
solemnly. The drummer, not having been assigned to a room, 
could not go to bed, and he tried to keep awake by reading the 
“ Life of St. Paul/’ the only book he could find. The hog- 
grease lamp was sputtering in unison with the ticking of the 
clock, when the door of an inner room opened, and a tall, wild- 
eyed, bushy-haired man entered. Without speaking, he seated 
himself and stared at Ninaman, who naturally showed surprise. 
Presently a conversation was begun, and the man exhibited such 
intelligence that Ninaman’s fears were allayed, especially as the 
man claimed to be the landlord’s brother. The conversation 
turned on literary subjects, and the man remarked, 

Did you ever hear Hamlet’s soliloquy recited properly?” 

“ I think so,” said Ninaman. ‘‘ I have heard Booth.” 

“ Booth does not catch the spirit,” said the strange-looking 
man. “ He fails to engraft the twig of despair into the tree of 
Hamlet’s nature. Would you like to hear it recited properly ?” 

“Yes.” 

“You shall hear it. I hope nothing tragic will occur, but, 
by Moses, you shall have it.” 

Arising, the wild-eyed man darted into an adjoining room 
and returned with a navy pistol. Placing the pistol on a table 
he began to recite in a voice so deep and with an air so wild that 
Ninaman was startled. When he came to “ take u.p arms 
against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them,” he seized 
the pistol, cocked it, and placed the muzzle against his head. 
“ Shall I end them?” he yelled, flourishing the pistol. “ Shall 
I end them with you ?” 

Ninaman suggested that his troubles were not greater than he 
could bear, and asked the man to lay aside his pistol. 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


13 


All, I see you do not like tragedy. You no doubt like com- 
edy. Pull off your coat and dance, or I’ll end your life.” 

The pistol was levelled, and Ninaman pulled off his coat and 
began to dance. 

“ Whoop it up,” yelled the man, ‘‘ or I’ll end them. Pull off 
your trousers. ” 

The trousers came off and the dancing continued. 

‘‘ Pull off your drawers.” 

The drawers dropped to the ground. 

Off with your shirt.” 

The shirt flew into the air. A noise was heard outside, and 
the landlord, his wife and daughter were on the porch. 

Let me go, for God^s sake,” pleaded Ninaman. 

“ No, sir. I’ll kill you if you attempt to leave. You are a 
comedian.” 

The door-knob turned. Ninaman sprang toward a door and 
rushed up-stairs as the pistol snapped. 

In a few minutes the landlord eame up and handed Ninaman 
his clothes. ‘‘ I forgot to tell you,” he said, “ that my brother 
is deranged. He has an old pistol, but you couldn’t hurt any- 
thing with it. He is harmless, but likes his little joke.” 

The next morning the wild man was in such good humor that 
he offered to beat Ninaman throwing rocks at an oyster-can. 


A WABmJSrG TO PIKCHUBS. 

A DIGNITA.KY of the Church was dining out. Of the two 
ladies between whom he was seated, the one on his right-hand 
side was an intimate acquaintance, and noticing that her dis- 
tinguished neighbor was silent and preoccupied, said to him, 
sotto voce, I am afraid you are not v^ well this evening ; you 
do not seem in your usual spirits.” “ Well,” said the dignitary, 
“ I am in rather a nervous state of mind about my health, and 
have a sort of presentiment that a serious illness is hanging over 
me. I am conscious of a peculiar numbness all down my right 
side, which seems to forebode an attack of paralysis.” His fair 
companion expressed her hope that such fears were ill-founded. 

Ah, no,” he replied, “ I’m afraid there’s no doubt of it, for 
I have been pinching my right leg all dinner-time, and can 
elicit no responsive feeling whatever. The limb seems quite 
dead to all feeling. ” “Oh,” exclaimed the lady briskly, and 


14 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


with an expression of intense relief on her face, “ if that is all 
which troubles you, I think I can at once relieve your mind 
from anxiety, for the leg which you have been pinching all the 
evening is mine .’’ — Court Circular. 


A RELIC OF THE WAR, 

THE BUTTON THAT WAS SHOT FROM GEN. HANCOOK’S GOAT AT 
GETTYSBURG. 

Yesterday a well-dressed man — but this is not a fashion 
article ; what’s the use in describing a man’s dress ? Anyway, 
the man entered a store, and taking a brass button from his 
pocket he handed it to a bystander, and remarked, 

‘ ‘ Rather a valuable relic. This button was shot from General 
Hancock’s coat at the battle of Gettysburg. My father was on 
Hancock’s staff, and picked up the button when it fell from the 
General’s coat.” 

” I should think that it was valuable,” said the man, examin- 
ing it. “ From Hancock’s coat? Well, I declare. What’ll you 
take for it ? Excuse me, sir. I should not have asked such a 
silly question.” 

“ No offence, sir. I wouldn’t sell the relic, of course, as it is 
bound to me by more than one tie. My father is dead,” and 
the man looked away while the other party turned and made a 
foreign remark to a boy that stood by the counter lazily turning 
the leaves of a lot of sheet music. ‘^No, I won’t sell it,” con- 
tinued the man, ^‘but as I am in straitened circumstances, I am 
going to the pawn-shop and pawn it.” 

Don’t do that. Let me take it.” 

“ Well, loan me $5.” ] 

The money was handed over, and after he relic man had care-i 
fully taken down the address of the capitalist he walked out. ] 
About five minutes afterward the clerk in a neighboring store j 
entered and exclaimed, See here, fellers; I reckon I’ve, got 
the boss relic — a button shot from General Hancock’s coat at 
the battle of Gettysburg. ’ ’ He then unwrapped a lot of oiled 
paper from around a brass button. 

“ Where did you get it?” asked the man who had a similar 
curiosity. 

I got it from a man whose father picked it up just after a 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


15 


bullet had clipped it from Hancock’s coat. The poor fellow had 
started to the pawn-shop. I let him have |10 on it.” 

‘‘ What, ho ! boss,” exclaimed another man, entering the 
store and holding up a brass button. Here’s a relic for you. 
Shot from General Hancock’s coat during the — ” 

“ Say, there,” said a man looking through the doorway, do 
you fellers want to see a relic of the late war, shot — ” 

I’ve got one that’ll beat it,” said a man, stooping and 
fumbling in his vest pocket. 

‘‘ Hole on dar,” said a colored man. “ Lem me show yer de 
boss curyasity. Hit’s a button got offen — ” 

Oh, let up,” exclaimed several voices, while the noise of 
buttons rolling on the floor was heard. 

‘‘Less look for that feller,” said the first victim. “Why, 
bust my buttons, somebody must have drawn on Hancock with 
a double-barrel shotgun.” 

The party went out, and the only information learned of him 
was that he had just cut the buttons from an old army coat and 
started for the next town . — Little Rock Gazette. 


# 

VAS BENDER HENSHPECKED? 

Any shentleman vot vill go round pehind your face, und talk 
in front of your back apout sometings, vas a svindler. I beared 
dot Brown says veek pefore next apout me I vas a henshpecked 
huspand. Dot vas a lie ! De proof of de eating vas in de pud- 
dings.'^ I am married tventy year already, und I vas yet not 
pald-headed. I don’t vas oonder some pettygoats. gofernments ; 
shtill I tinks it vas petter if a feller vill insult mit his vife und 
got her advices apout sometings or oder. 

Dem American vomans don’t know sometings nefer apout his 
huspant’s peesness, und vhen dem hart times comes, und not so 
much money comes in de house, dot makes not some tifference 
mit her. Shtill she moost have vone of dot pull-pack-in-de- 
front hoop-skirt-pettygoats, mit ever kind trimmings. Booty 
soon dot huspant gets pankerupted all to pieces. Dey send for 
de doctor ; und vhen de doctor comes de man dies. * Den dot 
vomans vas opliged to mairy mit *»^oder- mans vot she don’t 
maype like mit four or six shildrene, on account of his first vife 
already, und possobably vone or two mudders-by-law — vone sec- 


FUIT LET LOOSE. 


ond-lianded, imd de oder a slitep-mudder-out-law. Den she 
says mifc herself, “ I efeii vish dot I vas dead a little.” 

Now if a Ghermans goes dead, dot don’t make a pit of tiffer- 
ence. Nopody would hardly know it, except maype himself. 
His vife goes mit de peesness on shust like notings has happen- 
ed to somepody. 

American vomans and Gherman vomans vas a tifferent kind 
of peobles For inshtinct, last year dot same feller, Mr. Brown, 
goes mit me in de putcher peesness togeder. He vas American 
man — so vas his vife. Veil, many time vhen efery peobles has 
got de panic pooty bad, dot vomans comes to her huspant und 
says she moost have money. Den she goes out riding mit a car- 
riages. 

Vonce on a time, Brown says to me, “ Bender, I vouldn’t be 
henshpecked. ” So he vent off und got himself tmht — shust 
pecause his vife tells him, blease don’t do dot. Den he sits 
down on his pack mit de floor, und if I am not dere dot time he 
never vould got home. 

Veil, dot night, me und my vife, ve had a little talk apout 
sometings ; und de next tay I says to Brown, “ Look here 
vonst ! My vife she makes sausages, und vorks in dot shtore ; 
also my taughter she vorks py de shtore und makes head- 
skeeses ; und your vife vas going out riding all de times mit de 
horses-car, und a patent-tied-pack cardinal shtriped shtockings. 
Now your vife moost go vork in de shtore und cut peefshteaks, 
und make sauerkraut, or else ve divide not equally any more 
dot profits.” 

Veil, Brown goes home und he tells his vife apout dot. Den 
she comes pooty quick mit Brown around, and ve had a mis- 
undershtanding apout sometings, in vich eferypody took a 
part, including my leetle dog Kaiser. Pooty soon up comes a 
policemans und arrests us for breeches of promise to keep do 
pieces, und assaulting de battery, or sometings. Den de firm 
of Bender & Brown vas proke up. I go apout my peesness, und 
Brown goes mit his peesness. My vife she helps in de shtore. 
llis vife goes riding mit de horses-cars, und efery nights she 
vas py de theatre. 

Vot’s de gonsequences ? Along comes dot Gentennial panic. 
Dot knocks Brown more higher as two kites, py Ghimminy ! 
My income vas shtill more as my outcome. But Brown, he goes 
’round dot shtreets mit his hands out of his pockets, und lie 
don’t got a cent do his baciv. 

Von Boyle in Scribner^ s Monthly. 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


17 


THE NEW ARRIVAL, 


MA. 

A CHARMING little tiddy iddy bit of mother’s bliss, 

A tiny toddles, sweet as flow’rs of spring ; 

A precious popsy wopsy — give its mammy, den, a kiss, 

A pretty darling itsy witsy ting ! 

PA. 

So that’s the little fellow ! II ’rn ! A healthy-looking chap. 

Another mouth to feed as sure as fate ! 

No, wife, I don’t consider that his coming’s a mishap, 

But still I could have done with less than eight. 

BROTHER. 

My eye ! Is that the baby ? What a jolly little pup ! 

But I say, ma, wherever is its nose ? 

And I say, father, by and by, when he gets more grown up. 
He’ll wear my worn-out jackets, I suppose. 

UNCLE. 

Another ? Well, thank goodness, I am not a married man. 

What ! Don’t I think him pretty ? No, I don’t. 

To keep him from the workhouse you must do the best you can ; 
Don’t think that I’ll assist you — for I won't. 

DOCTOR. 

How are we getting on to day ? I trust we soon shall mend. 

We mustn’t think we’re strong just yet, you know ; 

We’d better take a something which this aiternoon I’ll send. 

And let me see— hum ! — ha— Ah, yes— just so. 

• NURSE. 

He’s lovely, that he is, mum ! See them sturdy little legs ! 

He’s twice the size of Lady Smithers’ third ; 

And when he comes a-cutting of his little toosey pegs, 

He’ll be a man, he will, upon my word. 

NEIGHBOR. 

Oh, yes, dear, he looks healthy, but you mustn’t trust to that— 

I do not wish, of course, your hopes to dash, 

But when I see a tender babe, so ruddy, strong, and fat, 

I — look, dear, on his face ! Is that a rash ? 

MA (da capo). 

A charming little tiddy iddy bit of mother’s bliss, 

A tinny toddles, sweet as flow’rs of spring ; 

A precious popsy wopsy — give its mammy, den, a kiss. 

A pretty darling itsy witsy ting 1 Fun. 


18 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


A MINER AT THE PALACE HOTEL. 

The Palace Tavern, Sept. 21, 1880. 

Old Son : I’m puttiii’up in the biggest shebang in the world. 
I’m bunkin’ in the high-tonedest tavern in Californy — up 
seven stops of a slidin’ machine they calls an elevator. The fust 
time I slid up in this yer elevator it nearly took my breath away. 
I didn’t know we was on the rise ’til we’d started, an’ afore I 
got over my skeer we’d landed on the top story. Them eleva- 
tors is a big thing, Bill. Then there’s the niggers. Bill, thet 
hands ye round through the tavern. Ef yer chewin’ terbacker, 
an’ want ter git rid o’ yer cud, there’s a nigger right alongside 
’ith a spittoon. W’en ye want a cocktail, all ye’ve got ter do 
is ter w’istle fur a nigger, an’ he fetches it to ye on a tin plate. 
Ef it’s grub time, an’ ye don’t know the way to the hashery, 
ther’s a nigger er two ter pilot ye an’ another darkey ter shove a 
cheer at ye. Ez soon’s yer fairly planted a nigger fetches on the 
soup, an ’ afore ye’ve hed a chance ter wink twice arter ye’ve 
got away ’ith the soup another nigger shoves fish at ye ; then 
ye wait a minute, an’ along comes the beef, or some other kind 
o’ meat, an’ so on ’til ye wind up ’ith coffee, an’ cakes, an’ nuts, 
an’ fruit, an’ gimcracks. I tell ye w’at it is. Bill, I’m stuck 
arter them nigs ; they’re the perlitest roosters I ever see. I 
b’lieve they’d eat fur ye ef ye’d ask ’em. I tell ye w’at it is. 
Bill, they’re heavy on style round this yer house an’ no mistake. 
Wash bowls to wash yer hands in brought to the table by nig- 
gers, an’ little towels to wipe yer fingers on stuck round at ev’ry 
plate. I never see sech high tone in all my born days. Even 
Phil Raglin’s place ain’t a patchin’ to it fur genooine up an’ up 
dog. An’ the wimmin. Bill ! None o’ the wash-house Venuses 
in this yer tavern, much. Reg’lar out an’ out thoroughbreds. 
Bill, sech ez ye read about. Silks an’ satins, an’ diamon’s ’til 
ye can’t rest ; and purty ! — Bill, purty ain’t no name fur the 
gorgeousness o’ these yer females. I wish the widder could git 
acquainted ’ith some of ’em an’ lay fur a few pints — I b’lieve 
I’d perpose matterimony to her ef she’d gear up like these yer 
fillies. Bill, w’en ye come down to the Bay you jest put up at 
the Palace Tavern. Them niggers ’ll make ye feel puffecly at 
home ez long ez ye ken stan’ the high pressure prices they 
charges fur boardin’ and lodgin’. Why, ol’ son, the City Hotel 
in Sonora wouldn’t make a decent clothes closet fur one o’ the 
bedrooms in this yer house, an’ I b’lieve they’d hist yer Court 
House up to the top story in the cage o’ the slidin’ machine. 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


19 


Fm goin* tei* stay ’round here some time, an ef any o’ the 
boys wants anythin’ jest tell ’em ter chip, an’ I’ll ante. Ask 
the widder ter send along a sample o’ the kind o’ cloth thet 
suits her complexion best, an’ I’ll see thet. some o’ the wimmin 
folks stoppin’ in the tavern matches it fur her. Tell her ex- 
pense ain’t no object ez long’s it’ll spruce her up a bit, and 
make her look a little like these ’Frisco nobs. Don’t fergit ter 
send yer letters to the Palace Tavern, so they’ll be brought to 
me by a nigger on a tin plate. 

Yer ol’ pard, Jni Snagglbbt. 

N.B. — Ther’s more dips, spurs, an’ angles in this yer tavern ’n 
th^r’ is to the mother lode of Tuolumne. It’s nothin’ butshutes, 
stones, an’ cross cuts, from the top levels to the bed rock. I’ve 
made a map o’ the place, so’s I won’t git lost, cause yer see I 
don’t want to trouble those niggers all the time. 


A RIGHT VP AND DOWN WOMAN 

For once in the history of -the Union Depot its roof has shel- 
tered a woman who knew just where she wanted to go, the train ^ 
she was to take, the hour for departure, the fare, and the time* 
of arrival. She appeared to be about forty-five years of age, and 
she had flat feet, a peaked nose, and a voice which didn’t admit 
of any argument. No notice might have been taken of her 
among the scores of others, had she not inquired the way to the 
waiting-room, and added, “ Thank ye, though it’s your business 
to answer all questions ! That’s all I want to ask of you, and 
you can continue your promenade !” 

Going out on the train ?” queried the officer. 

“ Would I lug a big carpet-bag down here and stand around 
in the cold if I wasn’t !” she sharply answered. 

Going south, I s’pose ?” he queried, as she moved away. 
’Spose away, then !” she snapped, as she lifted her satchel. ‘ 
Entering the ladies’ waiting-room she found the seats all taken. 
A portly man, reading a paper and taking a heap of comfort, 
occupied one of the seats, and halting before him she dropped 
her satchel with an awful thud and said, 

Now you git right outer here ! This place is for ladies, and 
you are a great big fat man and orter be ashamed of yourself for 
crowding in among us !” 


20 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


I — ah — ah — !’’ he began, when she interrupted, 

“ Then stand up ! My legs are tired walking down here, and 
I’m not going to stand around while you sit down !” 

“ Certainly — allow me — ah — yes !” he stammered as rose up 
and gave her the seat. 

‘‘That’s more man-like,” she growled as she settled down, 
“ but it seems to me that if I was you I’d feel sort o’ sneaking 
in here ! The more I see of fat men the worse I hate ’em.” 

The fat man had a wife and two children in there ; but he 
wasn’t a minute getting through the door. For the next fifteen 
minutes the old lady sat very erect and stared around her, and 
then she started out to get her ticket, lugging her satchel on her 
hip. A bootblack espied her and called out, 

“ Shell I carry yer baggage-wagon, Aunt Sary.” 

“ Boy !” she replied, as she dropped the satchel and reached 
for his collar, “ I haven’t got any baggage- wagon, and in the 
next place I’m not Aunt Sary to anybody ! If you want your 
heels jerked over the roof of this depot you just give me the 
least of sass !” 

“ ’Scuse me, but don’t pinch so hard,” said the boy, and he 
squirmed out of her clutch and retreated a safe distance to look 
at her and rejoice that he was not her son. 

^ She walked up to the ticket window, put down a lot of silver, 
and said, 

“ I want a ticket to Jackson, and I don’t want any talk about 
it ! I know why I’m going, how long I want to stay, and who 
I’m going to se#.” 

Her ticKet was handed her without a word, and as she passed 
on to the gate she said to the official there, 

“ ’Tend right to your business ! There’s no occasion for your 
asking where I’m going or if I’ve got a ticket I” 

“ Pass on, madam,” he replied. 

“ Don’t try to flatter me !” she called back. “ Your business 
is to see that passengers git on the right train, and the less you 
madam around the better it will be for you I” 


A LITTLE fellow, in turning over the leaves of a scrap-book, 
came across the well-known picture of some chickens just out of 
their shells. He examined the picture carefully, and then, with 
a grave, sagacious look, slowly remarked, “ They came out 
’cause they was afraid of being boiled.” 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


21 


GERTRUDE^'' TO HER FICKLE ^HIUKKEY 

dory:^ 

Dear Hunkey Dory : Your poem, following, as it did, in 
the wake of another, seemed to me an exposition of the old say- 
ing, “ Cut his throat and give him a plaster !” Though I re- 
spect the kindly feeling that prompted the act, yet I beg leave 
to return your plaster with thanks ! as I really have no need of 
it. A country girl seldom gets stung by a hornet. There are 
two kinds in this world. I like best those that the Lord cre- 
ated ; the other kind are self-made. 

(N.B. — Linseed oil may agree with some folks, but for my 
part if I’ve got to take “ pizen” I prefer to take some other 
kind.) 

Fickle Hunkey Dory ! only two weeks ago you were inditing 
sentimental lines to Dear Mamie, and now you say you cannot 
live without me ! Well, coroners, like other men, should be 
made to earn their salaries. So the best thing you can do is to 
die. So mote it be ! You remind me of a certain artist who, 
whenever he met one that took his fancy, at once delineated 
her features in charcoal on the white wall of his room, and in- 
scribed her name beneath ; at last every space was filled, when 
he met ‘‘the one fair woman of his life,” no place could be 
found in his sanctum sanctorum for his Eosamond. He couldn’t 
live without her ; and so he went and shot himself behind his 
woodshed. (Oh, no 1 Twas behind his ear.) 

Go thou and do likewise ! 

It would be useless in you to “ pour the old tale in my ear,” 
for I am so deaf I couldn’t hear you ! And if you said, “ I love 
you, Gertie dear,” I’d be sure to think you said, “ The weather 
is remarkaUy clear and answer you accordingly. And again : 
“ We part to meet again on Sunday eve.” Now, I am a tem- 
perance advocate, and won’t encourage spirits of any kind ; so 
please keep your ghost within your material body. When we 
get to “ kingdom kum” I shall greet you with pleasure. I 
wonder how you’ll look with a crown on and a fiddle in your 
hands? Just think of your having to be a street musician, and 
no pennies to collect either. As to that little scold of ours — 
well, a thunder-shower always clears the atmosphere, and then ? 
— there is always a heaw of promise afterward in our little 
heaven I 


32 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


JOSH BILLIJSTGS^ PHILOSOPHY. 

GLASS BEADS. 

Stretch a man out on a bed ov «ikness, and hiz pride, infi- 
delity, and government coupons look like a kruel mockery to 
him. 

Tliare are people who kan liv, and keep fatt on hate. I would 
rather be a snaik. 

I hear ov streams all over the kuntry whare 2 pound trout aro 
plenty, but I hav allwuss managed to git to them about 10 days 
to late. 

Sassy children git their edukashun at home, and when the 
dog meets yu with a wagging tale at the threshold, yu may be 
sure ov a kindly greeting at the fireside. 

The people that I admire the least are thoze who admire 
themselfs the most — thare is no akounting for tastes. 

Thare is now and then a man who kan make a cirkumstanse, 
but as a general thing, cirkumstances make men. 

The luv of applauze haz a valuable germ in it,, but to the 
yung it iz full ov treachery. 

I luv men, and their ways, but the happiest hours I hav ever 
spent, hav been alone in the wilderness. 

Genius iz a diffikult thing to hide. I hav even seen it re'- 
vealed in blowing the noze, or handling a tooth pik. 

I thank God for one thing, that helth and poverty are so often 
found together. 

Yung man, all that yu kno, yu hav had to learn, therefore 
don’t never laff at the ignoranse ov others. 

It iz a pleasant thing to kno that cunning men, sooner or 
later, git kaught in the traps they set for others. 

The man who iz satisfied with the simple necesitys ov life, 
may think he iz happy, but he don’t amount to mutch enny 
how. 

Dangers suspekted are allwuss overrated ; a hole in the ground 
iz often more dreaded than enn 3 rthing that can possibly cum out 
ov it. 

It is sed that adversity iz the best for us, but if I kan hav 
prosperity, I will try to git along without enny adversity. 

Man iz the only animal I kan think ov who kant swim with- 
out learning how ; in fakt man haz to learn all he knows, even 
how to eat. 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


23 


FAITHLESS SALLY BE OWE. 

BY THOMAS HOOD. 

Young Ben he was a nice young man, a carpenter by trade ; 
and he fell in love with Sally Brown, that was a lady’s maid. 
But as they fetched a walk one day, they met a press-gang crew ; 
and Sally she did faint away, while Ben he was brought to. 

The boatswain swore with wicked words enough to shock a 
saint, that though she did seem in a fit, ’twas nothing but a 
feint. 

“ Come girl,” said he, hold up your head — he’ll be as good as 
me ; for when your swain is in our boat, a boatswain he will be.” 

So when they’d made their game of her, and taken ofi her 
elf, she roused, and found she only was a-coming to herself. 

‘‘And is he gone, and is he gone?” she criedy and wept 
out-right;, “then I will to the water-side and see him out of 
sight.” 

A waterman came up to her : “ Now, young woman,” said 
he, “ if you weep on so, you will make eye-water in the sea.” 

“ Alas ! they’ve taken my beau, Ben, to sail with old Ben- 
bow and her woe began to run afresh, as if she’d said “ Gee 
woe !” 

Says he, “ They’ve only taken him to the tender ship, you 
see.” “ The tender ship !” cried Sally Brown — “ what a hard- 
ship that must be ! Oh ! would I were a mermaid now, for 
then I’d follow him ; but oh ! I’m not a fish-woman, and so I 
cannot swim. Alas ! I was not born beneath the Virgin and 
the Scales, so I must curse my cruel stars and walk about in 
Wales.” 

Now Ben had sailed to many a place that’s underneath the 
world ; but in two years the ship came home, and all her sails 
were furled. But when he called on Sally Brown, to see how she 
got on, he found she’d got another Ben, whose Christian name 
was John. “ Oh, Sally Brown ! oh, Sally Brown ! how could 
you serve me so ? I’ve met with many a breeze before, but 
never such a blow !” 

Then reading on his ’bacco box, he heaved a heavy sigh ; and 
then began to eye his pipe, and then to pipe his eye. And th^ 
he tried to sing “ All’s Well but could not, though he tried ; 
his head was turned — and so he chewed’ his pigtail till he died. 
His death, which happened in his berth, at forty odd befell ; 
. they went and told the sexton, and the sexton tolled the bell. 


24 


FUK LET LOOSE. 


ZOVB IJSr CHICAGO. 

I SAW them last night leaning over the gate — 

Striped pants and banged hair side by side. 

You might know by the little round cap on his pate, 

That he would a bicycle ride ; 

And you might have known, too, by the gum in her cheek. 
And her flyaway hat, and the red 

Little head underneath, that her mind she could speak, 

In case there was aught to be said. 

Well, there she still stood, with her mouth full of gum. 
And a yummy-yum look in her eyes ; 

With a tongue that went on like a planing-mill’s hum. 

Ora phonograph in for a prize. 

But I thought, as I heard them exchanging their vows, 

And indulging in Love’s happy dream, 

I would sooner hire out to keep flies off the cows 
Than provide that young girl with ice-cream. 


A SHY young man of Scotland for fourteen years had wooed 
the lassie of his heart. One night Jamie — for that was the 
young man’s name — called to see Jennie, and there was a terri- 
ble look about the eyes, just as there is sometimes when they’ve 
made up their mind to pop the question. And Jamie came in 
and sat down by the fire just as he had done every Tuesday and 
Friday night for fourteen years, and he talked of the weather, 
and the cattle, and the crops, and the stock market I was going 
to say — but no they didn’t talk about that ; and finally Jamie 
said, “ I’ve known you a long time.” 

“ Yes, Jamie,” said she. 

“ And — I’ve thought I’d always like to know you, Jennie.” 

“ Y-e-s, Jamie.” 

And so I’ve bought — a lot — Jennie.” 

‘ ^ Y-e-s, J-a-m-i-e.” 

So — that — when — ” 

Yes — Jamie — yes.” 

“ Ye’re dead we can lay our bones together.” 

The fool had gone and bought a lot in a graveyard, but Jennie 
was not discouraged. She knew her man well — after fourteen 
y#tirs she ought to — and so she said gently, 5 

“Jamie?” 

“ Yes, Jennie.” 

“ Don’t you think ’twould be better to lay our bones together 
while we’re yet alive ?” 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


25 


MISS MA an UDEn. 

We shall never forget that evening we spent at Magruder’s, 
years ago. We admired Miss Magruder, and we went around to 
see her. It was summer-time, and moonlight, and she sat upon 
the piazza. The carpenter had been there that day, gluing up 
the rustic chairs on the porch, so we took a seat on the step, in 
front of Miss Magruder, where we could gaze into her eyes and 
drink in her smiles. It seems probable that the carpenter must 
have upset his glue-pot on the spot where we sat, for after en- 
joying Miss Magruder’s remarks for a couple of hours, and 
drinking several of her smiles, we tried to rise for the purpose 
of going home, but found that we were immovably fixed to the 
step. Then Miss Magruder said, ‘‘ Don’t be in a hurry,” and 
we told her we believed we wouldn’t. The conversation had a 
sadder tone after that, and we sat there, thinking whether it 
would be better to ask Miss Magruder to withdraw while we dis- 
robed and went home in Highland costume, or whether we 
should urge her to warm up the poker, so that we could thaw 
ourselves out, or whether we should give one terrific wrench and 
then ramble down the yard backward. About midnight Miss 
Magruder yawned and said she believed she would go to bed. 
Then we suddenly asked her if she thought her father would 
have any objection to lending us his front steps for a few days, 
because we wanted to take them home for a pattern. We think 
Miss Magruder must have entertained doubts of our sanity, for 
she rushed in and called her father and screamed. Magruder 
came down with a double-barreled gun. Then we explained the 
situation in a whisper, and he procured a saw and cut out the 
piece of the step to which we were attached. Then we went 
home, wearing the patch, and before two o’clock crushed out our 
young love for Miss Magruder. 

We never called again, and she threw herself away on a dry- 
goods man. There is a melancholy satisfaction in recalling 
these memories of youth, and of reflecting upon the influence of 
glue upon the emotions of the human heart. 


Prohibited. — A young fellow once offered to kiss a Quakeress. 
“ Priend,” said she, thee must not do it.” “ Oh, by Jove ! 
but I must,” said the youth. ‘‘Well, friend, as thou hast 
sworn, thee may do it ; but thee must not make a practice of it.” 


26 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


Tir^ BOSS RAT-KILLER. 

A TALL man, with a nose like a muffin, went into a boarding- 
1 10 use one day last week, and asked for a dinner. 

“ Owing to the general depression of business and consequent 
scarcity of the rhino,” said the proprietor, looking the tall man 
over, “ a dinner will cost you thirty-five cents in advance.” 

‘‘ I have nothing with me but a check on a Boston bank,” 
observed the tall man. 

“ Checks on Boston banks ain’t worth a copper,” remarked 
the landlord ; “ I guess you’ll have to dine more sumptuously 
elsewhere.” 

” Can’t I do something for my dinner?’^ asked the tall man, 
as a hungry pang gripped him. 

” You can pay,” said the proprietor impressively. 

“ You give me my dinner,” said the tall man, “ and I’ll 
agree to clean your house of every rat in it. I have performed 
the feat in many hotels throughout the country with most satis- 
factory results.” 

The proprietor accepted the bargain as a most advantageous 
one to himself, and the tall man seated himself at the table, 
where he did fearful execution among the victuals. He finished 
his dinner in half an hour, picked his teeth with a fork, called 
for a cigar, and proceeded to enjoy it.” 

“ Now, then,” said the proprietor, when the tall man had 
finished his smoke, “ let’s get to business. Go for the rats.” 

” Ah, yes,” returned the tall man, “ with pleasure. Procure 
me a light iron bar, about four feet in length, and I will proceed 
to business.” 

The bar of iron was produced, and the loafers gathered 
around to witness the interesting proceedings. 

“ Now begin,” said the proprietor. ” Where’ll you com- 
mence first ?” 

” Eight here,” replied the tall man, as he carefully rolled 
back his cuffs, spit on Lis hands, and grasped the iron bar 
firmly, while the proprietor stood by, with great anxiety de- 
picted on his countenance. 

“ Now,” said the tall man impressively, as he slowly elevated 
the bar, “ are you all ready ?” 

“ All ready,” returned the proprietor excitedly. 

“ Then,” said the tall man, “ bring on your rats !” 

For the space of five minutes the excitement of an entire Pres- 
idential election filled the room. When it subsided the tall man 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


27 


was nowhere to be found, and the proprietor was standing be- 
fore a glass, tying an oyster over his left eye. The rats still 
revel in their native freedom. 


OUGHT TO HAVE BEEN AN EDITORS 

The man who knows how to run a newspaper came into the 
Derrick office yesterday. He sat down in the best chair, pulled 
all the exchanges into his lap, and began his criticism. 

“ I ought to have been an editor,’’ said he, “ just to show you 
fellows how easy it is to run a newspaper. Why don’t you pitch 
into the city council ? People want some kind of excitement. 
Give the police thunder for not attending to business ; it will 
wake the people up. Caesar ! wouldn’t I make it hot for ’em if I 
had anything to do with a paper.” 

S’pose you run this office for two hours to suit yourself.” 

All right, justlet me doit. I’ll show you the hottest articles 
you ever saw. Give me the pencil. ” 

We left him sitting in the editorial chair, working away for 
dear life. On the stairs we met Jim Jones, a driller from Ala- 
magpezelum. 

“ Where’s the editor?” said he. 

Up stairs at his desk,” was the reply. 

Jones had blood in his eyes, and he bounded up two steps at a 
time, while we waited at the foot of the stairs for developments. 
In about two minutes we saw the dictionary fly out of the 
upper window, then there was a sound as of a chair being 
smashed, followed by loud yells, and in two seconds the door flew 
open, and the would-be editor came rolling down the stairs. 

“ What’s your hurry?” we asked, as he flew by us. “ Sit 
down and tell us how to run a newspaper,” we continued, as he 
struck the sidewalk. But he never stopped. He just flew 
across the sidewalk and fell on his back in the gutter. And 
such a sight. His nose was knocked crosswise, one eye was 
black as a thunder-cloud, his hair stood on end, his coat was 
ripped down the back, and one sleeve torn out. Jones was com- 
ing down the stairs, and the would-be editor jumped and ran 
up the railroad, with Jones close at his heels, yelling, “ I ain’t 
the editor,” at every jump he took. He hasn’t returned. AVe 
fear his youthful dream of running a newspaper has been nipped 
in the bud by the frost of adverse circumstances, — Oil City 
Derrick, 


28 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


THE CAB- COHEUC TOES MISTAKE, 

It happened the other day on the Lehigh Valley railroad. 
The train had just left Easton, and the conductor was making his 
first round, when he observed a small white dog with a bushy 
tail and bright black eyes, sitting cosily on the seat beside a 
young lady so handsome that it made his heart roll over like a 
lop-sided pumpkin. But duty was duty, and he remarked, in his 
most deprecatory manner, 

“ I’m very sorry, madam, but it’s against the rules to have 
dogs in the passenger cars. ’ ’ 

“ Oh, my ! is that so and she turned up two lovely brown 
eyes at him beseechingly. “ What in the world will I do? I 
can’t throw him away. He is a Christmas present for my 
aunt.” 

‘‘By no means, miss. We’ll put him in a baggage-car, and 
he’ll be just as happy as a robin in spring.” 

“ What ! put my nice white dog in a nasty, stuffy, dusty bag- 
gage-car?” 

“ I’m awfully sorry, miss, I do assure you, but the rules of 
this company are as inflexible as the laws of the Medes and 
them other fellows, you know. He shall have my overcoat to 
lie on, and the brakeman shall give him grub and water every 
time he opens his mouth.” 

“ I just think it’s awful mean, so Ido, and I know somebody 
will steal it, so they will !” and she showed a half notion to cry 
that nearly broke the conductor’s heart ; but he was firm, and 
sang out to the brakeman, who was playing a solo on the stove, 

‘ ‘ Here, Andy, take this dog over into the baggage-car, and tell 
’em to take just the best kind of care of him.” 

The young lady pouted, but the brakeman reached over and 
picked the canine up as tenderly as though it was a two weeks’ 
old baby ; but as he did so a strange expression came over his 
face, like a wave of cramp colic, and lie said hastily to the con- 
ductor, 

‘ ‘ Here, you just hold him a minute till I put this poker away, ’ ’ 
and he trotted out at the car door and held on to the brake- 
wheel, shaking like a man in the ague. 

The conductor no sooner had his hands on the dog than he 
looked around for a hole to fall through. 

“ Why wh — why, this is a worsted dog !” 

“Yes, sir,” said the little miss demurely, “Didn’t yoi^ 
know that?” 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


29 


No, I’m most awful sorry to say I didn’t know that/’ And 
he laid the Christmas dog down in the owner’s lap and walked 
out on the platform, where he stood half an hour in the cold, 
trying to think of a hymn tune to suit the worst sold man on 
the Lehigh Valley. — Anon, 


FOIBLES OF HUMAN NATURE, 

AS SEEl^ THROUGH PARAGRAPHIC EYE-GLASSES. 

The ‘‘ Fact and Fancy” man of the Boston Transcript claims 
to have noticed : 

That the Latin language is a prime necessity in common pro- 
grammes. 

That without it the apothecary would be unable (perhaps) to 
sell common salt, charcoal, and elm bark at a hundred per cent 
profit. 

That everybody can read Latin readily, save tAvo classes — those 
who never studied it and those who have finished studying it. 

That a mother with a lively boy resembles nothing in nature 
so much as the hen with a duckling. 

That it is amusing to see her Avorry and fret while the little 
imp goes through an illimitable programme, without seeming to 
remember that rubber balls and small boys are made for knock- 
ing around. 

That everybody has his peculiar sphere of eminence. 

That the great worker cannot be expected to be a great talker, 
nor the great talker a great worker. 

That, at any rate, the tAVo attributes are seldom combined in 
the same person ; but 

That inasmuch as the great talker believes himself to be also a 
great worker, he is, without doubt, just as contented with him- 
self as if he were the greatest of great workers. 

That most men so love work that they put off all they can 
till to-morroAV, that they may never be out of the employment 
they so much delight in. 

That feAV men care to put off their eating and drinking ; 
which shows them more provident in the matter of working 
than in eating. 

That some men are so enamored of work that they will stand 
and watch another labor, forgetting for hours all thoughts of 
self in their enchantment. 


30 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


THE EASY WIFE. 

There’s just one thing a man can have, > 

In all this world of woe and strife. 

That makes the business not too bad, 

And that one thing’s an easy wife. 

Dost fancy that I love my girl 
For rosy cheeks or raven hair ? 

She holds my heart because she laughs — 

Because she laughs, and doesn’t care. 

I put my boots just where it suits. 

And find them where I put them, too ; 

That is a thing, you must allow, 

A chap can very seldom do. 

I leave my papers on my desk. 

She never dusts them in a heap. 

Or takes to light the kitchen stove 
The very one I want to keep. 

On winter nights my cosey dame 
Will warm her toes before the fire ; 

She never scolds about the lamp, 

Or wants the wick a trifle higher. 

On Sundays she is not so fine. 

But what her ruffles I can hug ; 

I light my pipe just where I please, 

And spill the ashes on the rug. 

The bed is never filled with “ shams” — 

A thing some women vilely plan 

To worry servants half to death 
And spoil the temper of a man. 

She lets me sleep to any hour, 

Nor raises any horrid din. 

If it just happens, now and then, 

To be quite late when 1 come in. 

I tell you. Jack, if you would wed. 

Just get a girl who lets things run ; 

She’ll keep her temper like a lamb. 

And help you on to lots of fun. 

Don’t look for money, style, or show. 

Or blushing beauty, ripe and rare ; 

Just take the one who laughs at fate— 

Who laughs, and shows she doesn’t care 

You think, perhaps, our household ways 
Are just perchance a little mixed ; 

Oh, when they get too horrid bad. 

We stir about and get things fixed. 

What compensation has a man 
Who earns his bread by sweat of brow. 

If home is made a battle-ground. 

And life one long, eternal row ? Harper's Monthly. 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


31 


A FASHIONABLE WOMANS PRAYER, 


Stkengthen my husband, and may his faith and his money 
hold out to the last. 

Draw the lamb’s wool of unsuspicious twilight over his eyes, 
that flirtation may look to him like victories, and that my bills 
m^ strengthen his pride in me. 

filess, oh, fortune, my crimps, rats and frizzles, and let thy 
glory shine on my paint and powder. 

Enable the poor to shift for themselves, and save me from all 
missionary beggars. 

Shed the light of thy countenance on my camel’s-hair shawl, 
my lavender silk, my point lace, and my necklace of diamonds, 
and keep the moth out of my sables, I beseech thee, oh, for- 
tune ! 

When I walk out before the gaze of vulgar men, regulate my 
wrinkles and add new grace to gait. 

When I bow myself to worship, grant that I may do it with 
ravishing elegance and preserve unto, the last the lily white of 
my flesh and the taper of my fingers. 

Destroy mine enemies with the gall of jealousy, and eat up with 
the teeth of envy all those who gaze at my style. 

Save me from wrinkles and foster my plumpers. 

Fill both my eyes, oh fortune ! with the plaintive poison of 
infatuation, that I may lay out my victims — the men — as numb 
as images graven. 

Let the lily and the rose strive together on my cheek, and may 
my neck swim like a goose on the bosom of crystal water. 

Enable me, oh, fortune ! to wear shoes still a little smaller, 
and save me from corns and bunions. 

Bless Fanny, my lap-dog, and rain down hailstones of de- 
struction on those who^shall hurt a hair of Hector, my kitten. 

Smile, oh fortune ! most sweetly upon Dick, my canary, and 
watch with the fondness of - a spirit over my two lily-white mice 
with red eyes. 


‘‘ Oh, I’m just delighted with George,” said a soft-hearted 
maiden to an older and more matter-of-fact brother. ‘‘ He’s 
just too sweet for anything. The last time he was here he was 
so full of fun ; didn’t you think so, brother ?” ‘‘He may have 
been full of fun, sister, but he acted more to me as if he was full 
of beer.” A tableau and a sharp slam of the parlor door closed 
the scene. 


32 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


SURE OF A CHARACTER. 

Fkom his appearance it seemed to be Andrew Hicks^ vocation 
to wear out corner coal-boxes and nurse his hands in his coat 
pockets. Policeman Murphy had been called on to disturb his 
slumbers in an area-way by the proprietor thereof, and Andrew 
had bitterly resented the intrusion and sworn at the representa- 
tives of the law all the way to the station-house. He tried to 
look aggrieved when he met his Honor’s eye in the Tombs Po- 
lice Court, and worked himself into so high a state of excitement 
that he hitched up his trousers and actually allowed his hands 
to roam about loose. One look at him sufficed for the magis- 
trate, and he murmured, as he toyed with the commitment, 
“ One month.” 

At once Andrew was on his mettle. 

“ Hullup !” he cried. You ain’t goin’ to treat a hard- 
workin’ man and the father of a family like that ? Don’t you 
make a common error, Jedge. These here fists are used to 
tile.” 

“ I don’t believe you’ve done a day’s work in years,” said his 
Honor, sceptically. 

“ Why, Jedge, I haven’t been idle for the last twelve months. 
At it every day, and hard work at that.” 

“ What was your business ?” 

‘‘ Stonecutter, sir.” 

‘‘ Could you bring your boss here ?” 

“ I’m afraid not. You see, the yard’s a little ways away from 
here, and the boss has got partickler engagements mostly all the 
time.” 

“ Why did you leave him ? Wasn’t employment steady?” 

Oh, steady enough, sir. But he didn’t care to keep me 
any longer. Not but he was sorry to part with me, for he said 
when I left him th^t he’d have me back again soon.” 

Well, what sort of a character could he give you ?” 

‘‘I’m a modest man, Jedge, and I don’t want to be hootin’ 
my own praises, but every man that was over me for the last 
year can tell you that I was a sober man, that I quarrelled with 
nobody, but worked hard every day and got mighty little for 
it.’^ 

“How’s this?” asked his Honor, turning to the policeman. 
“Do you know anything about this man ?” 

“ Oh, I guess he’s telling the truth,” said the officer. 
“ He’s just done a year at Sing Sing.” 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


33 


anURKS OF AGRICULTURAL WISDOM. 

We think that after a while we’ll stop making our living by 
spoiling lead-pencils and paper, and turn our attention exclu- 
sively to farming pursuits. It is really delicious up here. 
Lounging under the trees is our forte. 

Occasionally we spread ourselves under a tree where a last 
year’s hen made a nest, and forgot to say anything, about it ; 
and once in a while a spider crawls up our back, or a June- 
bug falls down our throat, or a farmer’s dog shakes hands with 
our pants, and at times we go to bed to find a rattlesnake or a 
bat taking a nap on the pillow ; yet, notwithstanding these lit- 
tle unpleasantries, we like the country. 

They have such real nice large open days up here, and, be- 
sides, there is so much to learn. See what we have gathered in 
since we came here, and then tell us if our time has not been 
well spent : 

Potato-bugs and army- worms taste best when you’re asleep. 

Don’t pick up a live rattlesnake until he’s dead. 

Eggs grow stronger with age. 

The cheapest way to raise hens is with a clothes-pole. 

The best time to pick cherries is just before they’re all gone. 

Never wash milk before using it. 

If you have plenty of time to spare, don’t sit down on a bee- 
hive, mistaking it for a soap-box. 

Refrain from putting the milk-pail under the cow’s husband. 

Corn-stalk very little now. 

Be careful, in mounting a mule, not to go around to the back 
stoop. 

A male cow kicks best with his horns. 

The best way to climb a tree to steal apples is to stand on the 
ground and call them off with a paving-stone. 

Picking cherries is a healthful amusement, when you can get 
some nice rosy-cheeked lass to climb the tree and throw them 
down. The only difficulty is that one doesn’t have time to pick 
them up until she comes down. 


Canter and De-canter. — Jones’s studies in physiology, equi- 
tation, and the practical chemistry of alcohol have convinced 
him that a canter will give you ruddy cheeks, and a decanter will 
give you a ruddy nose. 


34 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


ms sojsr jnrs bay mabk 

WERE THE CAMP - MEETING FOLKS RESPONSIBLE FOR THAT 
PARTICULAR DICKER? 

I^VE come all the way in from Canaan to git a leetle law/^ 
said a man with a horsewhip under his arm, blue overalls in his 
boots, and a gray, stubby beard on his face, as he entered the 
Allen House reading-room, yesterday, where a number of the 
boys were talking politics. “ Mebbe some o’ you fellers kin give 
me the correct thing without me dickerin’ with a lawyer.” 

The speaker was a well-known farmer of the southern part of 
the county. He and his son Jim are noted for their sharpness 
at a bargain and a readiness to trade horses, cows, wagons, farms, 
or anything that belongs to them, at any and all times a cus- 
tomer may present himself. Jim lives on a farm a mile from 
the old man’s. 

Ye see, boys,” continued the speaker, my boy Jim had a 
bay mare that "he traded a yearlin’ bull and a cross-tooth har- 
row fur. She was a good critter an’ no mistake. I wanted 
that mare the wust kind, an’ made Jim a heap o’ good offers fur 
her, but he wouldn’t bite. Last Wednesday he come to my 
house kind o’ careless like, and sot down on the front stoop. I 
was a choppin’ kindlin’ wood for mornin’. Jim sot there a 
lookin’ up an’ down the road whistlin’ the ‘ Sweet By an’ By ’ 
kind o’ to hisself. When I carried in my kindlin’ I sot down 
on the stoop by him, 

“ ‘ Jim,’ I sez, ‘ you better let your old father have that bay 
mare o’ yourn,’ sez I. 

“ Jim had jest started the second verse of the ‘ Sweet By an’ 
By,’ but he whistled her all the way through afore he answered 
me. 

‘ I ben a thinkin’ o’ lettin’ you have the mare, pap,’ sez he, 
‘ seein’s you got yer heart sot on her so,’ sez he, ‘ pervidin’ Ave 
kin git up a dicker,’ sez he. 

“Jim had been goin’ to camp-meetin’ pooty steady for a week 
back, an’ I heerd he was gittin’ serious. He hadn’t been whist- 
lin’ nothin’ but hymn tunes for two or three days, an’ when he 
come around so nice on the mare question, I made up my mind 
that me an’ the old woman would see him jinin’ the mourners 
’fore long. 

“ ^ Jim,’ I sez, ‘ I kin stand eighty dollars for the mare,’ sez I. 

“ Jim looked up the road, and hummed a verse of ‘ Come ye 
sinners, poor an’ needy. ’ Then he sez, 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


35 


‘ Pap/ sez lie, ‘ I know I orto let you have that mare fur 
them figures,’ sez he, ‘ but you know I’ve refused double that 
for her,’ sez he. An’ so he had, boys, sure. 

“ ‘ Jim,’ sez I again, ‘ I think I could raise the eighty about 
twenty more, makin’ a hundred,’ sez I ; ‘ but that’s all I kin 
do. Eemember, Jim,’ sez I, ‘that I am yer father, and I’m 
gittin’ old, an’ my heart’s sot on that mare,’ sez I. 

“ ‘ Plunged in a gulf of dark despair,’ hummed Jim, lookin’ 

E lumb up to the sky. I guess he got away ‘with two verses afore ; 

e said anything to me, an’ I didn’t interrupt his singin’. Then 
he sez, 

“ ‘ Pap,’ sez he, ‘ I’ll tell you what I’ll do. Give me a hun- 
dred dollars,’ sez he, ‘ an throw in them two Berkshire pigs, 
an’ the mare is yours,’ sez he, ‘ jest as she is.’ 

“ ‘ A bargain ! ’ sez I. ‘ The pigs is yours, an’ I’ll be down 
after the mare to-morrow, ’ sez I. 

“ I counted out the hundred, an’ give it to him. He druv the 
pigs home with him. They was worth fifteen dollars apiece, 
easy. I could hear Jim whistlin’ ‘ Hold the Fort ’ till he got 
half a mile away. 

“‘Jemima,’ I sez to the old woman, ‘Jemima,’ sez I, ‘I 
never thought Jim ’d git pious, did you ? But I’ve got the bay 
mare,’ sez I ; ‘ an’ what the old boy Jim was thinkin’ of I can’t 
see. She’s worth two hundred an’ fifty any day in the week,’ I 
sez. ‘ Eeligion is makin’ a fool o’ Jim,’ sez I. 

“ Well, next mornin’ early I went down to Jim’s to git the 
mare. Jim had gone to town. I see his wife. 

“ ‘ I’ve bought the bay mare, Nancy,’ sez I. 

“ ‘ Yes, I know ye have,’ sez Nancy, grinnin’ all over her face. 

“ ‘ Where is she ? ’ I sez. 

“ ‘ She’s down in the stone lot,’ sez Nancy, grinnin’ more’n 
ever. 

“ I thought it was funny that the mare should be down in the 
stone lot, but I went down to find her. Boys, I found her. 
She was layin’ behind a big stone heap, deader’n a door-nail. I 
went back to the house. 

“ ‘ Why, Nancy,’ sez I, ‘ the bay mare’s dead ! ’ 

“ ‘ 0 yes,’ sez Nancy, laughin’ as if she’d split ; ‘ she died 
yesterday mornin’ with the colic,’ sez she. 

“ Boys, for a minute I was mad. Then I come to, and 
sez to myself, ‘ I’ll be glued if I don’t git the mare’s shoes, 
anyhow,’ sez I. So I went back to the stone lot to draw her 
shoes off. Boys, I’ll divide my farm up between ye if Jim hadn’t 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


drawed them shoes hisself, an’ the mare’s feet was as hare as 
when she was born. 

“ Now, I ain’t no ways mad at Jim, boys, for it was a fair 
and square dicker, an’ it shows there’s stuif in him ; only he 
mought a left the shoes on the mare. What I want to know is, 
can’t I get back at the camp meetin’ folks some way for dam- 
ages ? if it hadn’t a ben for them hymn tunes Jim larnt at the 
meetin’s I’d a ben a lookin’ out fur him. But they throwed me 
off my guard. The way I look at it is that the camp meetin’ 
society is responsible for me losin’ my hundred dollars and two 
fifteen-dollar pigs. Can’t I git back at ’em for trespass, or false 
pretences, or excessary afore the fact, or suthin’ ? Can’t I do 
it, boys?” 


IfOT THE HOG^S FAULT 

A VERY indignant man leading a dog stalked into Uncle 
Eph’s house yesterday and said, 

“ Eph, you black rascal, here’s your dog ; give me back the 
$3 I paid you for it.” 

‘‘What’s de mattah wid de dawg?” asked Eph, calm and 
unruffled. 

“ You warranted it to hunt chickens, didn’t you ?” 

“ An’ don’t ’e ?” asked Eph. 

“ No ; he isn’t worth a cent at it. ” 

“Did you try de dawg ?” said Eph, taking his pipe from his 
mouth and knocking the ashes from it. 

“ Certainly I did, and he’s a first-class fraud.” 

“How war de chickens cooked ?” 

“Cooked?” 

“ Yes ; was dey biled?” 

“ Of course not.” 

“ Did you roas’ dem ?” 

“ Why, you old idiot, they were alive— prairie chickens.” 

“ Dat ’splains it,” said Eph. “I tought dar was suffin’ 
wrong. You jest cook de chickens and gib de dawg half a 
chance, an’ see how he’ll hunt for dem. Folks ’spect too 
much,” he added, as the gentleman kicked the dog into a cor- 
ner and rushed out; “dey ’spects ’tirely too much from de 
cullud people. Ef dat man was fool muff to ’spect dat he war 
gwine to git a dawg for free dollars dat would hunt live chick- 
ens, he was fool ’nuff to bleeb dat we’s squar in de middle of de 
milleenyum, and ebberybody knows how big a fool dat am, ’ ’ 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


37 


PAT AJSTP THE OYSTERS, 

One evening a red-headed Connaught swell, of no small aris- 
tocratic pretensions in his own eyes, sent his servant, whom he 
had just imported from the long-horned kingdom, in all the 
rough majesty of a creature fresh from the “ wilds,’' to purchase 
a hundred oysters on the city quay. Paddy stayed so long away 
that Squire Trigger got quite impatient and unhappy, lest his 

body man” might have slipped into the Liffey. However, to 
his infinite relief, Paddy soon made his appearance, puffing and 
blowing like a disabled bellows, but carrying his load seemingly 
in great triumph. Well, Pat,” cried the master, “ what the 
devil kept you so long?” “ Long ! Ah, thin, maybe it’s what 
you’d have me to come home with half my arrantV* says Pat. 
“ Half the oysters ?” says the rhaster. “ No ; but too much of 
the says Pat. “ What fish ?” says he. “ The oysters, to 

be sure,” says Pat. “What do you mean, blockhead?” says 
he. “I mean,” says Pat, “ that there was no use in loading 
myself with more nor was useful.” “Will you explain your- 
self?” says he. “I will,” says Pat, laying down his load. 
“ Well, then, you see, plaise your honor, as I was coming home 
along the quay, mighty peaceable, who should I meet but Sham- 
musMaginus? ‘Good-morrow, Shamien,’ sis I. ‘ Good mor- 
row, kindly, Paudeen,’ sis he. ‘ What is it you have in the 
sack? ’ sis he. ‘ A hundred of oysters,’ sis I. ‘ Let us look at 
them,’ sis he. ‘ I will, and welcome,’ sis 1. ‘ Arrah ! thunder 

and pratees ! ’ sis he, opening the sack and examinin’ them 
‘ who sowld you these ? ’ ‘ One Tom Kinahan, that keeps a 
small ship there below,’ sis I. ‘ Musha, then, bad luck to 
that same Tom that sowld the likes to you ! ’ sis he. ‘ Arrah ! 
why, avick ? ’ sis I. ‘ To make a lolsour ov you, an’ give them 
to you without claning thim,’ sis he. ‘ An’ arn’t they claned, 
Jim aroon?’ sis 1. ‘Oh! bad luck to the one of thirn,’ sis 
he. ‘ Musha then,’ says I, ‘ what the dhoul will I do at all, at 
all ? for the master will be mad.’ ‘ Do 1 ’ sis he, ‘ why. I’d rather 
do the thing for you myself, nor you should lose your place,’ 
sis he. So wid that he begins to clane the^ with his knife, nate 
and welly an’, afeered ov dirtying the flags, begor, he swallowed 
the insides himself from beginnin’ to ind, tal he had them as 
dacent as you see thim here,” dashing down at his master’s 
feet his bag of oyster-shells, to his master’s no small amazement. 


38 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


PART OF THE GOVERNMENT. 

Entering a saloon the other day, a man laid an old spav- 
ined hfty-cent shinplaster on the bar, and called for beer. 

The bartender surveyed the old relic, turned it over, and re- 
plied, 

“ l)ot isn’t so goot as some prown paper.” 

“ Do you go back on the Government of the United States ?” 
demanded the stranger. 

“ Where is dot Government ?” 

“ Eight there, sir. The Government of the great United 
States of America issued that shinplaster, and agreed to redeem 
it.” 

I never heard about dot,” replied the bartender, pushing 
the money away. ’ ’ 

“ Well, I’ll make you hear of it mighty quick, if you don’t 
hand out the beer and give me my change.” 

“ You mean somedings. You start a row.” 

“ Yes, I mean something. I’ll have the United States Su- 
preme Court in the barroom in less’n half an hour, and before 
noon I’ll have you poking your nose out between iron bars !” 

“ Vhat I does, eh ?” 

“ You refuse to take the money.” 

“ But it ish no goot.” 

‘‘ What did you issue it for?” 

‘‘ I didn’t makes no money.” 

“ Wasn’t that money made by the Government?” demanded 
the stranger. “Who is the Government? Why, the people, 
of course. I am part of the Government, you are another part, 
and so on. I aided to issue that money, and so did you, and we 
promised to redeem it. Now, you rake in that promise to pay, 
and give me my change, or I’ll get up the biggest lawsuit you 
ever heard of. ” 

“ Who shall take him of me ?” inquired the bartender, as he 
picked up the money. 

“Any one you offer it to, or he’ll be liable to a suit for false 
pretences. Go right up to the post-office with it, demand sil- 
ver, and if they won’t exchange, you can get a lawyer to shut 
the shop up.” ^ 

The man took it, and handed out the change and the beer, 
and as the stranger passed out he called to his ’wife and said, 

“ Say, Katrina, what you tinks now?” 

“ Some more taxes, Henry?” 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


39 


“No more daxes, but I am some of der Government, and you 
are some of der Government, and der baby in der gradle is a 
little pit of der Government, and I shall get some new glose, and 
vote for myself to go to der gommon gouncil !” 


JOHW LITTLEJOHN. 

John Littlejohn was stanch and strong, 

Upright and downright, scorning wrong ; 

He gave good weight, and paid his way. 

He thouglit for himself, and he said his say ; 

Whenever a rascal strove to pass. 

Instead of silver, a coin of brass. 

He took his hammer, and said with a frown, 

“ The coin is spw'ious, nail it down." 

John Littlejohn^^as firm and true. 

You could not cheat him in “ two and two 
When foolish arguers, with might and main. 

Darkened and twisted the clear and plain. 

He saw through the mazes of their speech. 

The simple truth beyond their reach ; 

And crushing their logic, said, with a frown, 

“ Your coin is spurious, nail it down. ” 

John Littlejohn maintained the right. 

Though storm and shine, in the world’s despite ; 

When fools or quacks desired his vote. 

Dosed him with arguments learned by rote. 

Or by coaxing, threats, or promise tried • 

To gain his support to the wrongful side, 

“ Nay, nay," said John, with an angry frown, 

‘ ‘ Your coin is spurious, nail it down. ’ ’ 

When told that kings had a right divine. 

And that the people were herds of swine, 

That nobles alone were fit to rule. 

That the poor were unimproved by school. 

That ceaseless toil was the proper fate ^ 

Of all but the wealthy and the great, 

John shook his head, and said, with a frown. 

The coin is spurious, nail it down." 

When told that events might justify 
A false and crooked policy ; 

That a decent hope of future good 
Might excuse departure from rectitude ; 

That a lie, if white, was of small offense. 

To be forgiven by men of sense, 

“ Nay, nay," said John, with a sigh and a frown, 

“ The coin is spurious, nail it down." Charles Mack ay. 


40 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


BUYING A PIG IN A POKE. 

Hans was in a terrible sweat. One of his finest calves had 
broken its leg, and he knew not what to do with it. At this 
juncture Pat happened along, and offered Hans for his crippled 
calf a pig, which in his oily brogue he described as “an illigant 
craythur, sur.” After some hesitation, Hans agreed to accept 
the pig as an equivalent for the calf, taking Pat’s word for the 
many good qualities of the pig, all of which combined rendered 
him a “ jewel, sur.” 

A few days passed, and Pat had killed or otherwise disposed 
of his calf, when Hans thought he would go and look after his 
pig. He found Patrick at his home in the suburbs, mending a 
wheelbarrow. Hans made known the object of his visit, when 
Pat said, “ All right, sur ; you’ll find him in good health and 
fine spirits, sur. This way, sur,” and Pat led the way through 
some beds of cabbages to a corner of the lot surrounding an un- 
pretending “ cot,” where, in a much-patched board pen, stood 
Hans’ porcine property. Th^ beast arose as the two men rested 
their arms upon the top of the pen and looked down upon him. 
As he elevated himself upon his long slender limbs he gave a 
loud snort, and shaking his head till his long, pendulous ears 
flapped against his cheeks like leather aprons, he elevated his 
snout, and, backing toward the rear of his pen, began smacking 
his chops, at the same time uttering a low, dissatisfied and dis- 
trustful muttering sound. Where not hairless he was sandy ; 
was of the masculine persuasion ; had white eyelashes, and a 
good deal of white surrounding his little glittering eyes — indeed, 
he had not at all a prepossessing look. 

“ He’s a bit bashful, sur,” said Pat, in explanation of the 
somewhat dubious conduct of the dissipated- looking beast, and 
naturally anxious to remove any unfavorable impression said 
demeanor might have created in Hans’ mind. “ He’s a bit 
bashful, sur, not having seen many jintlemen out o’ me own 
family ; but he’s sure, sur, to be very fond o’ ye whin ye’ve been 
a little while in his society, sur.” 

“ Yaw,” answered Hans, “ das ist a ferry offectionous look 
vot he hafe got ; ton’t it?” 

“ Indade, sur,” warmly replied Pat, “ ye may well say that. 
I’ve bin upon tarms of intimacy wid pigs ov ivery kind all me 
loife, sur, an’ though I say it meself, sur, an’ ov one o' the fam- 
ily like, still I will say, sur, that a pig ov a swater an’ more 
forgivin’ disposition I’ve niver had to do wid in all me time, 
sur.” 


FUN I.ET LOOSE. 


41 


‘‘ Yaw, exactly. You yas grief to part mid dose peautiful 
pig, now, ain’t it? So schweet mit his dispositions.” 

“ Sure, an’ how can I help it, sur ? He was born wid me, an’ 
he’s bin wid me all the days of his loife, sur, a-lookin’ up to me 
an’ a-dependin’ on me, till his voice is as familiar as my own.” 

He look like derwoice of him moost pe fery sthrong. Look 
on dose chests of him : mine himmel, he is more as dree inches 
vide !” 

Faith, sur, his lungs is as sound as the bells o’ Brandon, 
an’^ when he obsarves me cornin’ home o’ evenings, it’s a loud 
whisper he spakes wid.” 

Yaw, veil, I dink now, he ton’t cares fery mooch about his 
fittals — he eat shoost pooty moosh aboud anydings vat you gif 

Not the laste partickuler, sur. He puts up wid the same as 
the rest o’ the family, sur, an’ divil a growl out o’ his head, 
when pigs as has bin raised wid some families I know, sur, 
would roar night an’ day about it, sur.” 

“ Oxactly. Now, pesides dat he ist an offectionous pigs ; 
he got considerations aboud him — ain’t it ? Too berlide to put 
on some hiferlutin airs aboud grub matters. Veil, veil, dose 
manners ! He vos most decisively ein fine pig — some pigs ton’t 
got no considerations.” 

“ He’s bin well raised, sur, an’ is a credit to the family, as 
you can see for yourself, sur. There he stands, sur, all mod- 
esty, and observin’ ye wid the greatest respect, bashful as he 
is.” 

“ Yaw, exactly. A reckuler yewel yenerally, ain’t id ? Bote 
vot for he does make his eyes dat vay oude fon his het ? Py 
plitzen ! look on his mout, how he slobber, and how like der 
teufel he pegins to whirl er aroundt ! Vot for is dese? By 
Shupiter ! he ist grazv — he vill tie right avay oude !” 

“ Ah, sur, it was that I had in me mind to tell ye. In some 
respects he is not robust, sur. Fits, sur, he sometimes haves 
fits. But you must bear wid him, sur, an’ whin he’s done wid ’em 
he’s so conthrite, sur, ye haven’t the heart to find fault wid him. 
It’s a spacies o’ epperlaptic, sur, pre juiced by former indisposi- 
tions, sur ; so a man tould me as had a dale o’ practice wid physic 
as a cow doctor, sur. In his younger days the puir baste was 
much aflQicted, sur, an’ this brought oh the fits, so the man 
said, sur. ‘ Pat,’ says he, ‘ have he iver had the kidney wur- 
rum?’ ‘ He have, sur,’ ses 1. ‘ The maisels?’ ses he. ‘ He 
have,’ ses I. ‘ The thumps ? ’ ses he. ‘ He have had ’em,’ ses 


42 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


I. ‘ The cholera?’ ses he. ‘ He have, siir,’ ses 1. ‘ Zounds, 

Pat,’ ses he, ‘ that accounts for the fits,’ ses he. Ah ! poor 
divil, he is aisier now. Shall I lep intil the pen and pass him 
out till ye, sur ?” 

“ Oxkoose me, mine goot friendt, der pig ist ein peautiful 
pigs, a reckeler jewel as vot you yenerally can find ; but for 
mineself, I more radder have ein pigs vot ton’t got some fidts 
simile like dose of him. I ton’t took ’um.’’ 

Hans makes a break across the cabbage patch, when Pat sings 
out, 

“Sure, ye’d betther take ’im, sur ; a gratefuller baste ye 
never had to do wid.” 

“ Yaw, but I ton’t took ’um. You yoost keep dose pi^ ; I 
don’t gone to preak your heart mit a seberation mit der vamily, 
oxpecially to take avay der prightest ornamend vot it hafe got.” 


•Anon, 


ms LOST SATCHEL. 


Charles Henry Johnson came down from Saginaw to go 
East. He landed in town with a big satchel, a cheerful heart, 
and a desire to see the sights. When he started out he left his 
satchel in a store, and when his tramp was finished he had for- 
gotten the location. After a vain hunt of two hours he put 
down some whiskey to sharpen his memory, and at midnight he 
was kicking away on the doors of the City Hall and demanding 
his lost property. 

“ I’m kinder sorry,” he observed, “ but that ’ere satchel con- 
tains all my worldly wealth. I put four white shirts in it — 
four Sunday shirts which button behind — and where are they 


now ?’ ’ 


“ Where are they now?” answered echo in her saddest voice. 
“And I had six calico neckties in thar,” continued the 
stranger ; “six bran-new neckties, without a wrinkle in ’em. 
And thar was four pairs of cotton socks with red legs — four pairs 
without a hole in a single heel. Where are they now ?” 

“ Where are they now ?” sighed the wind as it blew from the 



“And I had two boxes of collars, a whole Sunday suit, and 
heaps of other things, and I’m beaten out of the whole caravan. 
As I said before, I’m kinder sorry if I’ve made your policeman 
any trouble ; but when I think of some galoot rigging himself 


FUN LET LOO»E. 


43 


up in my stolen duds and putting on airs a<'Ound town, I feel 
like I could jump into the river and end my days.’’ 
a “ And end my days,” came the mournful echo from the corri- 
dor. 

“ Judge, why don’t you talk to me?” demanded the prisoner. 
‘‘ Thar you sot and sot and bite that penholder without saying 
a single word. I was never in Jail before, and ’taint to be 
’spected that I kin do all the talking. As I said before, I’m 
kinder sorry.” 

“ Kinder sorry,” sighed the breeze coming through the cap- 
tain’s ofiBce. 

His Honor braced up and made a remark, 

And his language was gentle and low ; 

And the gist of his speech, as heard o’er the rail, 

Referred to the single word, “ Go !” 


HUM B ULHS. 

Ef enny ov mi readers wil obey the follerin hum rules, i wil 
guarantee that they wil sukseed in makin “ Hum, Sweet Hum,” 
a sweet place indeed : 

1. Never speek a kind wurd tu enny wun about the house. 

2. Never shut a door behind yu without slammin it. 

3. Never klean yure boots before enterin yure domicile. 

4. Never tawk softly when anserin a persun, bekauze ef yu 
du the persun may be apt tu think that yu hev konsumpshun, or 
that you ain’t boss ov the place. 

5. Never be polite nor civil tu servants ; be az austere az pos- 
sible, and thus make them respekt yu, hi showin them that yu 
are a superior being. 

6. Alwus reserve yure best manors for kompany and yure 
wurst for yure family. 

7. When peple ar speakin never wait til they ar dun, but al- 
wus join in the middle ov their speech. This will make them 
kondense their tawk, and thus giv yu a chance tu babble non- 
sense. 

8. When yn ar kalled upon ti>du a thing, never du it cheer- 
fully, but be az crabbed az possible until it iz dun. 

9. Alwus sit down at the table or in the parlor with dirty 
hands and disheveled hair. This iz a sure sine ov good breedin, 
and it shows that yu ar yuced tu kompany. 

10. Whenever a member ov the family says a thing, alwus dis- 
pute it, for it shows superior nollij and talent on yure part. 

Khrizty Dixx, Y. P. 


44 


FUN LET LOOSE, 


THE SMALL BOY AND THE CLRCUS, 

The small boy now looketh upon the circus poster when it 
is red, white, and blue, and becometh intoxicated with delight. 

For what is it which carrieth more joy to tlie heart of the 
small boy than a dead wall covered with circus posters? 

Echo might answer, a dead-head ticket covered with the le- 
gend “ Admit One.” 

And as the boy gazeth on the pictures of indescribable ani- 
mals, and upon the impossible antics of lightly clotlud men and 
women, his imagination maketh all the pictures realities, and 
he is willing to stake his reputation as a marble player that the 
coming circus is the best in the world. 

And he longeth to go. 

Soon he is joined by other boys of his age, and they all gaze 
upon the posters and drink in the beauties thereof. 

And they marvel among themselves. 

And one boy sayeth he has never seen so wonderful a display 
of circus pictures. And they soon fall to speculating among 
themselves as to whether each performer really doeth all th(> 
things which he is represented as doing. 

And another one sayeth he has seen as wonderful perform* 
ances as are pictured out on the posters. 

But his companions laugh him to scorn and say, “ What are 
you givin’ us — taffy ?” 

So it cometh to pass that the boy who hath seen all these 
things is forced to hold his peace (providing he has not already 
devoured it), for verily the majority ruleth among the boys. 

Soon the all-important question cometh up regarding the pros- 
pect for crawling under the canvas, and they wax enthusiastic, 
and, in their minds, they are all in the circus on the front seat, 
each one having found a good place to crawl under. 

But soon one of their number recollecteth the fact that he 
was once caught in the act, and as he dilates on the strength of 
canvasmen in general, and the one who collared him in partic- 
ular, the courage of the group oozes out of their individual 
finger ends. 

But the company adopteth' preamble and resolutions to the 
effect that it is necessary that each boy attend the circus. 

And each one layeth out a route in his neighborhood, and 
woe unto the piece of old iron which his fingers clutcheth, for 
verily in the end it contributeth to the circus fund. 

Any man who hath ever been a small boy knoweth these 
things to be true. — Rome Sentinel, 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


45 


ARKANSAS WILLIAM, 

THE TERROR OF THE PLAINS AND HIS WONDERFUL FORBEAR- 
ANCE. 

Arkansas William was a shooter, a slasher, an Indian-killer, 
a Government scout, a cleaner-out of mining camps, a tornado 
when he struck a town, and a double- jointed son of dynamite 
generally. All this he told us, and sought to impress on our 
minds, and it came to pass by and by that whenever he crowed 
we all cackled. We’d have bet all the horses in the First Cav- 
alry against an Indian dog that Arkansas William was a match 
for any four tribes of Indians on the plains, and we’d have 
backed him against all the other terrors, tarantulas, wildcats, 
Rocky Mountain lions, and howling bears between Omaha and 
’Frisco. True, we never saw him &oot, nor cut, nor slash, nor 
knock down and drag out, but it must be in him, because he 
said it was. 

It was an impressive sight to see him stalking around with a 
rifle, two revolvers, and a bowie strapped to him ; and, heaven ! 
how he could yell ! It was enough to make every mule at the 
post tremble to hear Arkansas William utter his war-whoop — the 
same one he uttered, he told us, when he rode down on two 
hundred Pawnees, and scattered them to the four winds. How 
many of us bought his tintypes at two dollars apiece will never 
be known, but he was more eager to sell them than take the war- 
path. 

When the Michiganders left Colorado, William was hankering 
to lay in a winter supply of 250 scalps, seven barrels of gore, 
and a barn full of ears and noses, and his wild war-whoops fol- 
lowed the regiment for more than two miles. 

The other day something was heard to drop in the Black Hills, 
and Arkansas William, the Great Gulch Terror, walked in upon 
a mining camp, and in thunder tones inquired what sort of a 
graveyard they had there. When they tremblingly answered 
that they had none at all, and that all the men were in the best 
of health, the Terror mounted a barrel, flopped his arms, and 
cried out, 

“ No graveyard here ! No place in which to lay my victims I 
Whoop ! I’m the Great Gulch Terror ! I’m the gigantic grave- 
yard starter of the big West ! I’ll tie both hands behind me and 
fight your whole town !” 

They tried to coax him not to. They even offered him flfteen 
cents to go away and leave them alone. Indeed, they offered to 


46 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


write him a variety play in which he, as the hero, should kill 155 
men inside of an hour and a half, but he would not go. Arkan- 
sas William could not be bought with gold, and he had fame 
enough. 

Well, when they realized that he wanted blood and must have 
it, a weazened-faced, flat-chested, thin-waisted man from Cass 
County, Mich., who weighed 120 pounds, offered himself as a 
sacrifice. He had never fought anything or anybody, and he was 
so tame and humble that the men used to wipe the grease off 
their knives on his brick-colored hair after the close of a meal. 
He crawled out of his tent and said he’d as soon fight as not. 
He had just received a letter from home to the effect that his 
wife had run off with a blonde tin-pedler, and now he didn’t 
care to live longer. 

“ Him ! He ! That man I That toothpick ! Why, I’ll 
make hash of him in a second I” roared Arkansas William as he 
caught sight of his victim. 

Yes, he would do that very thing, and that would start a 
graveyard. He threw down his rifle, put off his revolvers, and 
crowed for blood. The little man didn’t crow any, but he lugged 
out a wicked big knife, drew a hair across the edge of it, and 
said he’d do the best he could. The Terror crowed again and 
told how many men he had killed, but the weazen-faced man cut 
another hair with his knife. The Terror finally offered to let 
him off on account of his consumptive look, but he wouldn’t be 
let off. He wanted to die then and there. Then the Terror 
wanted a fair show. He wanted to go up the trail and come 
down to the attack on a run. That was his best hold and the 
way he had always fought. The little man was perfectly willing. 
All he wanted was a fight to the death, and he didn’t care how 
he got it. Arkansas William started up the trail, but halted 
and returned and said. 

Boy, I’m the Great Gulch Terror, and I’ve put 198 white 
men and over 600 Indians under the sod. But I’m no monster. 
Something in your face touches my heart. I’ll give you one 
more chance to draw off and live on.” 

The Cass County man wouldn’t take it. He didn’t want to 
live since his wife went back on him, and, moreover, he was mad 
for the first time in his life, and wanted to see how he would act 
in a fight. 

“ Very well : get ready to die !” yelled the Terror, as he 
backed up the trail. He was backing and spitting on his bowie- 
knife and getting an awful look on. his face when last seen. The 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


47 


miners waited for the rush, and expected every second to hear 
his yells, hut they came not. Three— five— ten minutes slipped 
away, and then they investigated. Arkansas William was no- 
where to be found, but they saw a man a mile away heading for 
Deadwood and making the earth ache as he passed over it. 


A QUESTION OF TIME. 

Hole on dar,^’ said a colored man, hailing an acquaintance. 
‘‘Does yer cross de street ebery time yer sees me to keep from 
payin’ dat bill ?” 

‘‘ No, I doesn’t.” 

“ What fur den ?” 

“ Ter keep from bein’ axed fur hit.” 

“ Mr. Napoleon,” said the creditor, ‘‘ I lent yer $10 tree 
weeks ago. Yer promised an’ promised ter pay me. De udder 
day yer said dat ’pon your word an’ honor as a gentleman yer’d 
pay me ter-day. Now, what’s yer got ter say ?” 

“ I a’lers ’zerves my honor, Yer’s getting yer lack oh ’flosofy 
an’ my honor mixed.” 

“ How’s dat?” 

“ Doan yer know dat de udder day all de time in town wa:;, 
changed ^ Da found dat de time was wrong, an’ da sent off an’ 
got what dey calls a transit apparatus. Since den all de watches 
and clocks hab been oberhauled. Hit hab been foun’ dat our 
time am jis one day too fast.” 

“ Dat’s got nuthin’ to do with my money.” 

“ Course it hab. I promised ter pay yer ter-day. De ober- 
haulin’ ob de time shows dis ain’t ter-day.” 

“ How does yer make dat ?” 

“ Why dis is ter-morrow. Doan yer see? Lemme tell yer, 
if yer goes roun’ dis town showin’ such ignunce ob flosofy de 
people will laugh at yer.” 

“ Well, when is yer gwine ter pay me ?” 

“ Jest ez soon ez we kin get the time straightened up. Da’s 
workin’ on hit now. Jes’ take my advice, fur if de people oust 
gets into dar heads dat a man is a fool, ten years of knowledge 
won’t change hit.” 


While a Leadville lawyer was cross-examining a woman who 
was on the witness-stand, she exclaimed, “ I’m a lady, and by 
thunder, don’t you forget it !” 


48 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


THE BACHELOR'S NOTION OF WIDOWS, 

Widows, like two-edged swords, are dangerous things, 
And lead men by the nose, as pigs with rings ; 

Their chief delight is digging up their first, 

“ The best of men,” to prove you are the worst. 

Marry her not, unless her first was hung ; 

But even that may not quite chain her tongue, 

For she may still comparisons pursue, 

And say, “ The gallows is too good for you.” 


/ 

A Lady’s Eesponse to the Toast of “The Men.”— 
Mrs. Duniway, of the New Northwest, at a literary reunion at 
Salem, Oregon, “ toasted” the gentlemen as follows : 

“ God bless ’em ! They halve our joys, they double our sor- 
row, they treble our expenses, they quadruple our cares, they 
excite our magnanimity, they increase our self-respect, they 
awake our enthusiasm, they arouse our affections, they control 
our property, and outmanoeuvre us in everything. This would 
be a very dreary world without ’em. In fact, I may say, without 
prospect of successful contradiction, that without ’em it would 
not be much of a world anyhow. We love ’em, and the dear 
beings can’t help it ; we control ’em, and the precious fellows 
don’t know it.” 


Faith and Works. — Some years ago a gentleman died. His 
widow inherited his property and collected the insurance on his 
life, and very soon enlarged, repaired, and fitted up her resi- 
dence in quite a luxurious style. A friend, calling, expressed 
some little surprise that she had made these nice arrangements 

so soon after the decease of Mr. . “ Why shouldn’t I do 

it?” replied the practical “ relict.” “ My husband, good man 
that he was, is enjoying a glorious mansion in the skies, and of 
course he wishes me to be as comfortable as possible here on 
earth.” Who says that woman’s faith was not shown by her 
works ? 


An Eligible Marriage. — Lord Dundreary has just given 
his opinion with regard to that much- vexed question — marriage 
with a deceased wife’s sister. “ I — I think,” he says, “ marriage 
with a detheathed wife’s thithter is very proper and very eco- 
nomical, because when a fellah marrieth his detheathed wife’s 
thithter, he — he hath only one mother-in-law.” 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


ABMS AND THE MAN 

In the light of the moon they sat on the beach. 

And where was the harm ? 

For perhaps he was trying that maiden to teach 

All about the bright stars, and the names we give each ; 

Or perhaps he was turning his hopes into speech — 

But where was his arm ? 

Now that maid seemed to have a rather fair form — 

But what hid her waist ? 

Well, perhaps ’twas to shield her from some coming storm, 

Or perhaps ’twas to keep that dear maiden warm. 

Round the waist of that maiden’s rather fair form 

His arm he had placed. Puck. 


The number of one-armed young men seen driving out with 
young ladies these summer evenings is truly appalling. An old 
soldier at our elbow says that one arm is invariably lost during ^ 
an engagement. 

Man is a gudgeon ; woman is the line ; her smile the float ; 
her kiss the bait. Love is the hook, and marriage is the fry- 
ing-pan. 

The Tie that Binds. — “ Poor Dick ! how sadly he is altered 
since his marriage !” remarked one friend to another. ‘‘ Why 
yes, of course,” replied the other ; “ directly a man’s neck is in 
the nuptial noose, every one must see that he’s a haltered per- 
son.” 

“ Auntie,” asked a lovely brunette of sweet seventeen of her 
cross-tempered chaperone, an ugly old maid of sour sixty, “ why 
are you like an engine?” ‘‘I don’t know,” snapped auntie. 

“ Because,” sadly answered the beauty, “you always scatter the 
sparks whenever you appear.” 

‘‘Wouldn’t you like to have a bow?” said the bold young 
archer, as they sauntered down the field ; and she murmured, 

“ Yes ;” and the absorbed archer said, “ What kind would you 
prefer ?” She quivered a little as she replied archly, “ I should 
prefer yew.” The young man “ took.” 

Young men should take warning from the story of the watch- 
ful mother, who, thinking that her daughter’s guests had stayed ' 
long enough, walked out on the piazza and inquired if the 
morning paper had come. 


50 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


POKIER BILVK^ SERMON. 

AN ADAPTATION' OF ^^SCRIPTER” SUITED TO A LEADVILLB 
AUDIENCE. 

“ Poker Bill,” having procured bail since his last sermon, 
preached in Leadville the first Sunday after martial law was 
proclaimed. On ascending the platform he unbuckled his revol- 
ver and laid it on the table with the remark that he ‘‘ kinder 
thawt concealed weapons warn’t the right outfit for a Gospel 
preacher.” 

His text was from Matthew 20 : 1-15. He said : Partners, 
this text rites about a man that owned wineyards. As most of 
you are more convarsent with straight red licker and shafts, I 
will read ‘ mines and prospect notes ’ instead of wineyards. 

‘ ‘ ‘ Thar war a sartin man, who was a householder, who went 
out early one morning to git men to work on his claims. 

“ ‘ An.d he seed 2 tenderfeet, and he struck a bargin with 
them to work on a prospect fur $4 a day. 

“ ‘ And he went out again, and seed three miners standing by 
the Tontine Saloon, and he sed : “ Ain’t you afraid of martial 
law? Ain’t you red Order 'No. 6? Go to the Buckeye' shaft 
and work a week, and I will give yer what is squar.” 

‘ ‘ ‘ And they went. ’ 

“ Partners, I will jest say hyar that I kinder don’t swallow that 
ar last line — but its Scriptur. 

“ Nevartheless, ‘ And he went again at 6 o’clock and did 
the same. 

“ ‘ And he went agin at 11 o’clock, and he seed 2 miners and 
one tenderfoot loafing, and he sed : “ Why don’t yer work ? Ser- 
geant Grant will come along and hist yer in the calaboose. ’ ’ 

“ ‘ And they sed, “We want ter work, but are are a leetle 
afeered of the Miners’ Union.” 

“ ‘ And he sed, “ Yer got yer guns, ain’t yer ? What are ye 
afeerd of ? Go to the Buckeye shaft, and what is squar I will 
giv’ yer,” and they went.’ Now, when pay-day come, things got 
mixed. He wanted to pay the miners in the Buckeye ^2 a day, 
but, partners, they wouldn’t have it, and allowed as how one 
miner war worth two tenderfoot, and as he paid tenderfeet $4 
a day miners were worth $8 a day.” 

Here “ Doc” Riley rose and said : “ Bill, I left my gun at 
home, becase I knowed how hard it was for yer to git bail last 
time, and I don’t warnt to discuss, but I warnt to ask a ques- 
tion.” ^ 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


51 


“ Go aliead,’’ said Bill. 

“ War that ere mine-owner (continued Doc) a tenderfoot or a 
practical man 

“ Hy ! liy ! hy !’’ shouted a score of voices. 

“ Now, see hyar, pards,’’ said the preacher, “ you kinder got 
me. But it war my certain opinion that he war a practical 
miner, and had been around the camj) saving, saving, all he 
could, called mean, because he wouldn’t jine the boys in ‘ freeze 
out ; ’ working for two and a half a day in wet shafts and drink- 
ing cheap red Ticker ontil he was afeered his hreth would pizen 
the man at the windlass. I don’t suppose he ever played a game 
of keerds, except seven -up — which puts me in mind how I got 
skinned at that ar game on the Arkinsaw. I hope none of this 
congregation — But I have got off the trail. Mister (to an East- 
ern man) whar war I ?’ ’ 

Eastern Man — You were speaking about paying the laborers 
of the vineyard. 

Beg yer pardin,” said Doc” Riley ; Bill war speaking 
about lodes ; wineyerds warn’t in question. I asked him if that 
ar mine-owner war a tender foot or a practical man. I and 
him don’t agree. No practical miner would put a tenderfoot 
on a prospect. He’d be a durned fool to pay him $4 per day. 
That ar is played. ” 

See hyar, ‘ Doc,’ ” said Poker Bill, “ another break like that 
and thar will be trouble in this tabernacle. I want no discus- 
sion. You all know I had a of a time raising bail, and fur- 

ther I want this congregation to understand I can calaboose the 
whole durned lot under Order No. 6, and — ” 

Here the preacher was interrupted by the sharp crack of a 
revolver. Trouble followed. No words, no furniture broken. 
No noise except a score or two of sharp explosions. Luckily, 
none of the wounds were mortal. 

When the Provost Guard took charge. Poker Bill (who was 
only slightly wounded) was notified to stop preaching while 
martial law prevailed. S. L. Delan. 

Leadville, June 30, 1880. 


Extreme Modesty. — An exceedingly modest young lady, 
desiring a leg of chicken at the table, said, I’ll take the part 
that ought to be dressed in drawers. ” A nice young gentleman, 
who sat opposite, immediately said, ‘^I’ll take the part which 
ought to wear the bustle !” 


63 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


A WONDERFUL MILL. 

THE WAY AN ASTONISHED BANCHER VIEWS IT. 

At the paint and variety store of F. Fredericks, South C 
Street, is a patent fly-flapper, fly-frightener, or whatever it may 
be called, that is an apparatus of rather unique appearance. It 
rises somewhat in the shape of a tower or light-house from a 
central pedestal, and from the top extend large vanes covered 
with canvas. Inside the apparatus is a clock-work, and when 
this is wound up it runs for an hour or two, whirling the fans 
rapidly through the air. The horizontal arms of the fans are of 
sufficient length to effectually protect a large table from flies. 

Yesterday the machine was put in motion, and had not been 
long in operation before it attracted the attention of a ranchman 
who was passing the door. 

‘‘ Hello cried he, as he came in and marched up to the 
counter on which the machine was swinging its arms at a fear- 
ful rate. “ Hello ! What you got there ?” 

“ The model of a new style of windmill,” said a bystander. 

Ah, yes ! I see. I supposed as much,” said the rancher ; 
“ I supposed as much,” and he walked round and viewed it from 
various points. 

“ A big one after that style would be just the thing for pump- 
ing water on a ranch,” suggested the bystander, who is some- 
thing of a wag. 

“ Ya-e-es,” hesitatingly replied the rancher, glancing toward 
the door, and holding up his hand to see if he could feel a breeze 
coming in ; ya-es, but how in thunder does it go without any 
wind ?” 

“ Ah,” said the wag, ‘‘ that is the beauty of this invention — 
that is what I got the patent on.” 

‘‘You !” cried the rancher, and he surveyed the wag from 
head to foot with an expression of mingled awe and admiration. 

“ Yes, I got it up. 1 studied on that fifteen years. Many a 
night I have lost from twelve to eighteen hours’ sleep figuring on 
that little machine.” 

“ Well, well ! And it goes without wind?” 

“ Most assuredly. Any fool can get up a windmill that will 
go with wind, but you don’t always have wind, and often 
when you want water worst — when your thirsty crops are all 
perishing for want of water — there is no wind, and your pump 
don’t work.” 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


53 


“"Wonderful!” cried the rancher; “wonderful! And you 
get the thing up and it goes without wind ?” 

“ I am proud to be able to say that I invented the machine.” 
“ And so you should, young man — so you should be proud, 
and you deserve to make a fortune out of your invention. Now, 
Tve been acquainted on the Comstock about twenty years, and 

that is the first thing that I ever saw in Virginia City that 

went without wind — and a sight of wind ! Young man, 

you this day given me a great pleasure ! Y'ou have — ” 

But the young man — the wag — was gone. 

“Nice game that rooster was giving me !” said the rancher. 
“ Why, I’m running fourteen of them fly-flappers down on my 
ranch at the sink of the Carson to keep the flies off my hayma- 
kers, and I want to get about half a dozen more of ’em.” 


Only one “Easy Situation” in this World. — The Rev. 
Henry Ward Beecher some time ago received a letter from a 
young man who recommended himself very highly as being hon- 
est, and closed with the request, “Get me an easy situation, 
that honesty may be rewarded.” To which Mr. Beecher replied : 
“ Don’t be an editor if you would be ‘ easy.’ Do not try the 
law. Avoid school-keeping. Keep out of the pulpit. Let alone 
all ships, stores, shops and merchandise. Abhor politics. Keep 
away from lawyers. Don’t practice medicine. Be not a farmer 
nor a mechanic ; neither a soldier nor a sailor. Don’t study. 
Don’t think. Don’t work. None of them are easy. Oh, my 
honest friend, you are in a very bad world ! I know of but one 
real ‘ easy ’ place in it. That is the grave.” 


A Dutiful Daughter. — “ Look here, Matilda,” said a Gal- 
veston lady to the colored -cook, “ you sleep right close to the 
chicken-house, and you must have heard those thieves stealing 
the chickens.” 

“ Yes, ma’am ; I heerd de chickens holler, and heerd de 
woices ob de men.” 

“ Why didn’t you go out, then ?” 

“ Case, ma’am (bursting into tears) ; case, ma’am, I knowed 
my ole fadder was out dar, and I wouldn’t hab him know I’se 
los’ confidence in him foah all de chickens in de world. If I 
had gone out dar and kotched him, it would had broke his old 
heart, and he would hab made me tote de chickens home foah 
him besides. He done tole me de day before dat he’s gwine 
to pull dem chickens dat night.” 


54 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


B UTTER WIG.WB LITTLE GA^ BILL, 

During one of those few cold snaps which we had last winter 
the gas metre in Mr. Butterwick’s house was frozen. Mr. But- 
terwick attempted to thaw it out by pouring hot water over it, 
hut after spending an hour upon the effort he emerged from the 
contest with the metre with his feet and trousers wet, his hair 
full of dust and cobwebs, and his temper at fever heat. After 
studying how he should get rid of the ice in the metre, he con- 
cluded to use force for the purpose ; and so, seizing a hot poker, 
he jammed it ‘through a vent-hole, and stirred it around inside 
the metre with a considerable amount of vigor. He felt the ice 
give way, and he heard the wheels buzz around with rather 
more vehemence than usual. Then he went up-stairs. 

He noticed for three or four days that the internal machinery 
of that metre seemed to be rattling around in a remarkable 
manner. It could be heard all over the house. But he was 
pleased to find that it was working again in spite of the cold 
weather, and he retained his serenity. 

About two weeks afterward his gas bill came. It accused 
him of burning, during the quarter, 1,500,000 feet of gas, and 
it called on him to settle to the extent of nearly $350,000. Be- 
fore Mr. Butterwick’s hair had time to descend after thg first 
shock, he put on his hat and went down to the gas office. He 
addressed one of the clerks : 

“ How much gas did you make at the works last quarter 

“ Dunno ; about a million feet, I reckon.” 

“ AVell, you’ve charged me in my bill for burning half a mil- 
lion more than you made. I want you to correct it.” 

“ Let’s see the bill. Mm-m-m — this is all right. It’s taken 
off the metre. That’s what the metre says.” 

“ Spose’n it does ; I couldn’t have burned more’n you mad ” 

“ Can’t help that. The metre can’t lie.” 

Well, but how d’you account for the difference ?” 

“ Dunno ; ’tain’t our business to go poking and nosing 
around after scientific truth. We depend on the metre. If 
that says you burned six million feet, why, you must have 
burned it, even if we never made a foot of gas out at the works.” 

“ To tell you the honest truth,” said Butterwick, “ that 
metre was frozen, and I stirred it up with a poker, and set it 
whizzing around.” 

“ Price just the same,” said the clerk. “We charge for po- 
kers just like we do for gas.” 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


55 


You ain’t actually going to have the audacity to ask me to 
pay $350,000 on account of that poker?” 

‘‘If it was $700,000 I’d take it with a calmness that would 
surprise you. Pay up or we’ll turn off your gas.” 

“ Turn it off and be hanged !” exclaimed Butterwick, as he 
emerged from the office, tearing his bill to fragments. Then he 
went home, and grasping that too lavish poker he approached 
the metre. It had registered another million feet since the bill 
was made out. It was running up a score of a hundred feet a 
minute. In a month Butterwick would have owed the gas com- 
pany more than the United States Government owes its credit- 
ors. So he beat the metre into a shapeless mass, tossed it into 
the street, and turned off the gas inside the cellar. 

He is now sitting up at nights writing an essay on “ Our 
Grinding Monopolies,” by the light of a kerosene lamp. — Anon. 


EPITAPH OH A LOCOMOTIVE. 
Collisions four 
Or five she bore ; 

The signals were in vain ; 

Grown old and rusted, 

Her boiler busted, 

And smashed the excursion train. 


Undesirable Information. — 8ceno : Passenger depot. 
Characters : Atlanta negro and country darky. Colloquy 
opened by the Atlanta negro: “ Wher’ you goin,’ buddy?” 
“ Duz you own dis shed?” “ No.” “ Ner none er deze kyars?” 
“ No.” “ Ner none er deze yer railroads ?” “ No.” “ Ner no 
tavern?” “No.” “Well, den, yer don’t wanter come bud- 
dyin’ me, an’ you don’t want no infamashun. De kinder infa- 
mashun w’at you’d git out’n me’d be mighty ap’ ferter sour on 
yer.” 


A MEMBER of Parliament in England, well known for his ready 
and unfailing humor, had lately to undergo a serious operation 
in the leg. It was at one time feared that amputation would be 
necessary. Just as the operation was about to begin, the hon- 
orable member quietly remarked to the surgeons, “ Remember 
that if you cut off my leg I can’t stand for the city any more. 
But,” he added, after a pause, as if for consideration, “after 
all, I shall still be able to stump the county.” 


56 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


IRISH COQUETRY. 

Says Patrick to Biddy, “ Good mornin’, me dear I 
It’s a bit av a sacret IVe got for yer ear : 

It’s yoursel’ that is lukin’ so charmin’ the day. 

That the heart in me breast is fast slippin’ away.” 

” 'Tis you that kin flalther,” Miss Biddy replies. 

And throws him a glance from her merry blue eyes. 

” Arrah, thin,” cries Patrick, “ 'tis thinkin’ av you 
That’s makin’ me heart-sick, me darlint, that’s thrue I 
Sure I’ve waited a long while to tell ye this same. 

And Biddy Maloney ’ll be sich a foine name.” 

Cries Biddy, “ Have done wid yer talkin’, I pray ; 

Shure’s me heart’s not me own for this many a day ! 

” I gave it away to a good-lookin’ boy. 

Who thinks there is no one like Biddy Malloy ; 

So don’t bother me, Pat ; jist be aisy,” says she, 

“ Indade, if ye’ll let me, I will that !” says he ; 

It’s a bit of a flirt that ye are on the sly ; 

I’ll not trouble ye more, but I’ll bid ye good-by.” 

” Arrah, Patrick,” cries Biddy, ” an’ where are ye goin’ ? 
Sure it isn’t the best of good manners ye’re showin’ 

To lave me so suddint !” ” Och, Biddy,” says Pat, 

“You have knocked the cock -feathers jist out av me hat 1” 
“ Come back, Pat !” says she. “ What fur, thin?” says he. 
“ Bekase I meant you all the time, sir !” says she. 


“ Do you believe in second love, Mr. McQuade ?” “ Do I be- 

lieve in second love ! Humph ! If a man buys a pound of 
sugar, isn’t it sweet ? and when it is gone, doesn’t -he want 
another pound, and isn’t that pound sweet, too? Troth, Mur- 
phy, I believe in second love. ” 


A Broad Hint. — A young lady had been spending the day 
.with a bachelor minister and his sister. The young lady, whose 
name was Miss Hope, had been much gratified with the kindly 
treatment received at the good old manse, and on leaving expressed 
her thanks for the kindness of the minister, making at the same 
time the remark that she had not yet heard him in the pulpit ; 
but, she continued, I will be over on the Sabbath to hear 
you. ” ‘‘ I shall be very glad to see you. Miss Hope, and, under 
the interesting circumstances, you might suggest a text for the 
occasion, and I will do all the justice to it I can.” ‘‘ I will be 
glad to do that, sir,” replied the lady ; how would this one 
do — ‘ Lay hold upon the Hope set before you ’ ?” 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


67 


A ^^MUDDY^^ MAIDEN, 

Lot’s wife, ’tis said, in days of old, 
For one rebellious halt, 

Was turned, as we are plainly told. 
Into a lump of salt. 

The same propensity of change 
Still runs in woman’s blood : 

For here we see a case as strange, . 

A Mayden turned to Mudd. 


Which Ceremony? — An old gentleman of eighty-four, hav- 
ing taken to the altar a young damsel of sixteen, the clergyman 
said to him, “ The / ot^Ms at the other end of the church.’’ 
“ What do I want with the font?” said the gentleman. “ Oh, 
I beg your pardon,” said the clerical wit, I thought you had 
brought this child to be christened.” 


Which End? — Not long ago a bridegroom returning home 
from his wedding was met by a friend, who thus addressed 
him : ‘‘ Well, Jack, I’m glad to see thee in thy happy position, 
thou’st seen the end of thy trouble now.” Thank thee, lad,” 
was Jack’s answer, “ I hope I have.” About a month after- 
ward the two friends again met, when Jack, speaking rather 
warmly, exclaimed, ‘‘ Bill, thou tolled me a lie that morning I 
got wed ! Didn’t thou say I’d seen th’end of my trouble?” 

I did,” said Bill ; “ but I didn’t tell thee which end.” 


‘‘ Unremitting Kindness.” — A comedian went to America, 
leaving his wife dependent on her relatives in England. Mrs. 
Eawcett expatiating in the green-room on the cruelty of such 
conduct, the comedian found a warm advocate in a well-known 
dramatist. “ I have heard,” said the latter, “ that he is the 
kindest of men ; and I know he regularly writes to his wife 
eve]^ packet. ” ‘‘Yes, he writes,” replied Mrs. F., “ a parcel 
of flummery about the agony of absence ; but he has never 
remitted her a shilling. Do you call that kindness?” “De- 
cidedly,’^ replied the author, “ unremitting kindness.” 


“ How do you like me?” asked a belle of her spouse as she 
sailed into the room with her long train sweeping behind her. 
“ Well,” said he, “ to tell the truth, it is impossible for me to 
like you any longer.’’ 


58 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


AJ3 0 UT L 0 VE, 

PACTS AND FANCIES IN REGARD TO CUPID AND HIS TRICKS. 

Mr. Fact and Fancy has noticed — 

That the boy who is most afraid of the girls is the first to be 
corralled in matrimony. 

That the little boys prefer boys to girls. 

That they soon change, never to go back to their early love. 

That the little girls love the girls best. 

That they don’t get over their preference so soon as the boys 
do — some of them never. 

That women love the men because they love everything they 
have to take care of. 

That men love women because they can’t help it. 

That the wife loves her husband so well that she has no 
thoughts for other men. 

That the husband so loves his wife that he loves all women for 
her sake. 

That girls who have given over all hope of matrimony, or who 
never had any, love to flirt with married men. 

That the married man is apt to think himself all, killing 
among the fair sex, simply because he has found one woman fool 
enough to marry him. 

That homely husbands are the best. They never forget the 
compliment paid them by their wives in accepting them. 

That homely wives are the truest. They know how to make 
the most of what they have. Lightning seldom strikes twice in 
the same place, and a homely woman feels that a similar law gov- 
erns question popping. 

That the man who marries late in life does well. 

That the man who marries young does better. 

That the man who never marries is to be pitied. 

That the woman who marries does well. 

That the woman who does not marry does better nine times 
out of ten. 

That the young man who prattles about the daisies” would 
turn red as a beet and tremble like as aspen if one of them 
should but look at him out of the corner of her eye. 

^ That the fellow who makes the most conquests has the least 
time to brag. 

That the man who thinks the girls are all in love with him is 
happy after his way. 


PUN LET LOOSE. 


59 


That the man who loves all the girls is happy after the true 
way. 

That the man who loves 'his wife may still love other women. 

That the least he says about his love for other women the 
smoother will be his matrimonial career. 

That old people think young lovers act like fools. 

That these same old people would like to be young lovers 
again, even if they had to act like fools too. 

That it is a mistake to say a person “ falls’’ in love. Love is 
a long step upward toward heaven. It is heaven. 

That as we are commanded to love our neighbor as ourselves, 
we should see to it that our neighbor is a charming young 
woman. 

That it is time to stop, for fear our readers might become 
love-sick. 


THE WRONG ROBE DE NUIT 

Probably the most embarrassing position a married man 
can be placed in is to have in his possession an article of wearing 
apparel belonging to the other sex. At least a certain well- 
known insurance man found it so last week. It appears that 
the gentleman in question had been summoned to adjust a claim 
in a neighboring village, and being unexpectedly recalled the 
following afternoon, he hastily entered the hotel, settled his bill, 
and started for the train. But he had forgotten something. 
Bushing back he sprang up the stairs and entered a room, 
which he thought the one he had lately occupied. He raised 
the pillow, seized the night-shirt, and started again at full speed 
for the train. Arriving home he deposited his satchel in the 
care of his better half, who, as usual, proceeded to inspect the 
contents. The very first article she brought to view and swung 
to the breeze was — not his night^shirt, but a similar garment 
with short sleeves and edging. His wife’s voice grew husky as 
she exclaimed, ‘‘ Charles, how came you to bring the wrong 
night- shirt ?” Poor Charles w’as dumb with astonishment. 
“ How could you ?” she demanded, and then there were signs 
of a fainting fit. But, suddenly recovering herself, the indig- 
nant wife asked, in a tone of the sharpest sarcasm, how long this 
sort of an adjustment had been going on. Ho explanation 
would do. Twenty-four hours had passed before Charles suc- 
ceeded in convincing his wife that it was all a mistake. .And 
now she has obtained the long-promised visit to the sea-shore. 


60 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


DIFFERENT VIEWS OF THE SAME SUBJECT 

A BEAUTIFUL LOVE POEM. 

When the fox was viewed away, 

Too discreet was I to say 

One warning word to curb her keen impatience for the race ; 

Riding on throughout the burst, 

’Mid the foremost well-nigh first, 

As with them she had started, with them still she held her place. 
Though not a word I said, 

Still 1 watched her as she sped — 

The joyfulness of triumph gave her cheek a radiant fiush ; 

Close beside her at a check. 

When I stroked the chestnut’s neck, 

And her horsemanship applauded, all she said was, “ Hush 1 hush ! 
hush !” 

But when the day was o’er. 

And we reached her home once more, 

Her hand she gently laid in mine to doff her riding glove ; 

And its pressure seemed to say, 

Ere she took it quite away, 

“ A time there is for hunting, and a time for making love.” 

There was heard a stified sigh, 

There was softness in her eye. 

And her heart betrayed its secret in the crimson of her blush. 

Joy indeed it was to feel 
What she could not now conceal. 

That no longer to my love tale would she answer, ‘ Hush ! hush 1 hush !” 

The World. 


The Inhospitable Family. — The other day a genuine 
i^ramp with a stomach yearning for a picked-up meal undertook 
to enter a yard on Winder Street. A large, fierce dog stood at 
the gate to give him a hostile welcome, and after vainly trying 
to propitiate the animal the tramp called to a lad of ten who 
was making a kite on the veranda, “ Hey, sonny !’' Yes, 
I’m hay,” was the reply. “ Say, bub, call off yer dog.” No 
use — no use,” replied the lad. “ Even if you got in here ma’s 
waiting at the kitchen door with a kettle of hot water, Sarah’s 
working the telephone to git the police, and I’m here to holler 
‘ Murder ! ’ and wake up the whole street !” 


One at a Time. — Foote, being annoyed by a poor fiddler 
scraping harsh discord under his window, sent him out a shil- 
ling, with a request that he would play elsewhere, as 07ie scrapper 
at the door was sufficient, 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


61 


THE DIFFERENCE, 

When ladies meet 
They always greet 
With kisses heard across the street ; 

But men, more mild, 

Don’t get so wild ; 

They meet and part when both have “ smiled.” 


One op the Pawnee Tribe. — A man getting out of an 
omnibus a few days ago made use of the two rows of knees as 
banisters to steady himself, at which the ladies took offence, 
and one of them, cried aloud, ‘‘ A perfect savage !” True,’’ 
said a wag inside, he belongs to the Paw-knee tribe.” 

Woman’s Tongue. — ‘‘ At what a rate that girl’s tongue is 
going,” said a lady, looking complacently at her daughter, who 
was discussing some subject of apparent interest with a hand- 
some young clergyman. ‘‘ Yes,” replied a satirical neighbor; 
‘‘ her tongue is going at the cu-rate.” 

‘‘ Aunt Julia,” said a blooming girl of seventeen, what is 
necessary in order to write a good love-letter?” “ Well,” re- 
plied the aunt, “you must begin without knowing what you 
mean to say, and finish without knowing what you have writ- 
ten.” 

A LADY, a regular shopper, who had made an unfortunate 
clerk tumble over all the stockings in the store, objected that 
none were long enough. “ I want,” she said, “ the longest hose 
that are made.” “ Then, madam,” was the reply, “ you had 
better apply at the next engine-house.” 

Like Herself. — While talking a few days about a lady of his 
acquaintance, a gentleman remarked that she was so genteel 
that she walked about the house “like a sylph.” An Irish 
gentleman who was present, and who heard the observation, 
remarked, “ An’ would you have her then crape about like a 
crab or a cat. Shure, what could she do but walk like herself 

The way that a London woman lately identified her stolen 
parfot was by bringing her husband into court and scolding 
him. The bird soon called out, “ Oh, I wish you were dead, old 
woman !” 


62 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


SCINTILLATION'S, OF WIT 

Paddy was all Right. — Why do you drive such a pitiful, 
looking carcass as that? Why don’t you put a heavier coat of 
flesh on him, Pat ?” ‘‘A heavier coat of flesh ! By the powers, 

the poor creature can hardly carry what there is on him now !” 

A Ready Answer. — An Irishman having accidentally broken 
a pane of glass in a window, was making the best of his way out 
of sight, but, unfortunately for Pat, the proprietor stole a march 
on him, and, having seized him by the collar, exclaimed, “You 
broke my window, fellow, did you not?” “ To be sure I did,” 
said Pat ; “ and didn’t you see me running home for money to 
pay for it ?” 

A Dealer in Pains. — An Irish glazier was putting a pane of 
glass into a window, when a groom, who was standing by, began 
joking him, telling him to mind and put in plenty of putty. 
The Irishman bore the banter for some time, but at last silenced 
his tormentor by, “ Arrah now, be off wid ye, or else I’ll put a 
pain in yer head widout any putty !” 

All Mothers not Washerwomen. — “ Why don’t you put 
on a clean shirt?” said a swell the other night to a hard-work- 
ing companion ; “ then the girls would smile upon you as they 
do upon me.” “ Everybody can’t afford a clean shirt everyday, 
as you can,” was the reply. “Why not?” responded clean 
shirt. “ Because,” said the other, “ everybody’s mother is not 
a washerwoman.” 

Quin and Eoote. — Quin could overthrow even Foote. At 
one time they had had a quarrel and were reconciled, but Foote 
was still a little piqued. “Jemmy,” said he, “you should 
not have said that I had but one shirt, and that I lay in bed 
while it is washed.” “Sammy,” replied the actor, I could 
not have said so, for I never knew that you had a shirt to wash. ’ ’ 

Laconic Answer. — They tell a good story of Hallam and 
Rogers. The poet said, “ How do you do, Hallam?” “Do 
what?” “ Why, how do you find yourself ?” “I never lose 
myself.” “Well, how have you been?” “Been where?” 
“ Pshaw ! how do you feel ?” “ Feel me and see.” “ Good- 

morning, Hallam.” “ It’s not a good morning,” Rogers could 
say no more. 


FUN LET LOOSE. 


63 


Home Missiok. — An old clergyman, one Sunday, at the close 
of the sermon, gave notice to the congregation that, in the course 
of the week, he expected to go on a mission to the heathen. One 
of his parishioners, in great agitation, exclaimed, “ Why, my 
dear sir, you have never told us one word of this before ; what 
shall we do?” “ Oh, brother !” said the minister, ‘‘ I don’t 
expect to go out of town.” 

A Letter- Weiter. — “ I say, Pat, what are you writing there 
in such a large hand ?” “ Arrah, honey, an’ isn’t it to my poor 
mother, who is very deaf, that I’m writing a loud letther.” 

High Crowhs ahd Low Crowhs. — “ See there !” ex- 
claimed a returned Irish soldier to a gaping crowd, as he exhib- 
ited with some pride his tall hat with a bullet-hole in it. Look 
at that hole, will you ? You see that, if it had been a low- 
crowned hat, I should have been killed outright.” 

The Ihclihed Plahe. — “ Why don’t you wheel that barrow 
of coals, Ned ?” said a learned miner to one of his sons. ” It’s 
not a very hard job ; there is an inclined plane to relieve you.” 
“ Ah,” replied Ned, who had more relish for wit than work, 

the jilane may be inclined, but hang me if I am.” 

Friendship. — “ That’s a very stupid brute of yours, John,” 
said a Scotch minister to his parishioner, the peat-dealer, who 
drove his merchandise from door to door in a small cart drawn 
by a donkey ; “ I never see you but the creature is braying.” 

Ah, sir,” said the peat-dealer, “ ye ken the heart’s warm when 
friends meet. ’ ’ 

A Young Crier. — Judge Crompton, entering the court late 
one morning, was asked by Judge Purvis what had interfered 
with his usual punctuality. My wife had a son this morning,” 
he said. Oh, brother Crompton, then I congratulate you on 
your young judge.” ‘‘No, no,” said Crompton, “he’s not so 
high in the law yet — he’s only a young crier.” 

Drafts. — “ Sambo, can you tell me in what building in Scar- 
bro’ people are most likely to take cold?” “Why, no, me 
strange in de town, and can’t tell dat.” “ Well I will tell you. 
It is de bank.” “ How is dat ?” “ Because there are so many 

drafts in ifc.” “ Dat is good ; but can yon tell me, sab, what 
make dare be so many drafts in it?” “No.” “ Because so 
many go dere to raise de wind. Yah ! yah !” 


64 


FUN LET I, JOSE. 


Diamond Cut Diamond. — In New York a quick-witted 
toper went into a barroom and called for something to drink. 
“ We don’t sell liquor,” said the law-evading landlord ; “we 
will give you a glass, and then if you want a cracker (a biscuit) 
we’ll sell it you for three cents.” The “ good creature” was 
handed down, and our hero took a stiff horn ; when, turning 
round to depart, the unsuspecting landlord handed him the 
dish of crackers, with the remark, “ You’ll buy a cracker .^” 
“ Well, no, I guess not ; you sell ’em too dear. I can get lots 
on ’em five or six for a cent anywhere else.” 

A Cockney Agriculturist. — A country gentleman while 
strolling out with a Cockney friend — a genuine Cockney — ap- 
proached a meadow, in which was standing a crop of hay. 
The Cockney gazed at it wonderingly. It wasn’t grass, it 
wasn’t wheat, it wasn’t turnip-tops. “ Vy, vatever does you 
call this stuff?” said he to his companion. “ That? why, hay, 
to be sure !” was the reply. “ Hay 1 he, he ! come that’s cut- 
ting it a little too thick ! If that’s hay. Just show me the hay- 
corns — come now !” 

Of the Same Species. — A Western New York farmer writes 
as follows to a distinguished scientific agriculturist, to whom 
he felt under obligations for introducing a variety of swine : 

“ Respected sir, I went yesterday to the fair at M ; I found 

several pigs of your sp6cies. There was not a great variety of 
beasts ; and I was very much astonished at not seeing you 
there.” 

Smart Uns. — “ First class in astronomy, stand up. Where 
does the sun rise?” “Please, sir, down in our meadow; I 
seed it yesterday.” “ Hold you tongue, you dunce ; where does 
the sun rise?” “I know — in the east.” “ Right, and why 
does it rise in the east ?” “ Because the ^east makes everything 
rise.” “ Out, you booby !” 

The Modest Youth’s Conundrum. — A modest young man 
at a dinner party the other evening put the following conun- 
drum : “ Why are most people who eat turkey like babies ?” No 
reply. The modest young man blushed, and would have backed 
out, but finally gave the reason : “ Because they are fond 

of the breast.” Two middle-aged single ladies immediately 
fainted. 



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